


I won't run

by LostBoy626



Series: Endgame FIXIT (Starker) [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AI, ANOTHER RESURRECTION, Adult Language, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dumbass Boys, Endgame fixit, Eventual Plot, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Mentions of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Mentions of manipulation for self gain (Thanos), Mentions of past Stillborn, Mpreg, Multi, MutatedSpiderPregnancy, Not-human-Tony, Pregnant Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Spider-Man - Freeform, Starker, alcohol use, ironman - Freeform, peter is 20, power au, ressurection, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 21:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostBoy626/pseuds/LostBoy626
Summary: “I made you a promise, and I don’t take those lightly,” he finally said, and Peter’s breath stuttered in his chest.“Is that why you followed me here?” Peter egged him on, breathless. “Fulfilling a promise you made to yourself?”Tony’s lip jerked in a sort-of sad smile that he fought back. “I’ve broken many promises I made to myself,” and his eyes darkened at that, reminding Peter of just how many he was privy to. “Following you wouldn’t be the first, or the worst.”And shit. Was he even breathing at the current moment?*Book two in (Endgame FIXIT series)READ *All the hearts i've turned to hate* FIRST





	1. He shouldn't be here

**Author's Note:**

> And here we ARE! First off, so many people have helped me make this chapter possible because I absolutely suck and have went through a dry spell where I feel as if my vocabulary has taken a serious shrinkage and im blundering around in a forbidden land that I can't seem to crawl out of, so enjoy this and read at your own risk! lmao. Anyway, I'll let you go. Enjoy this hectic mess! 
> 
> I won't say anything for the sake of not spilling something unintentional. but I am excited to be back!
> 
> much love,
> 
> xx
> 
>  
> 
> •TRIGGER WARNINGS•  
> • Mentions is suicidal thoughts  
> •Mention of intentional self destruction  
> •Alcohol abuse  
> •Body/Food Abuse
> 
> *HIGHLY UNEDITED*

**_It was dark, with shadows extending to life on the walls, their hollowed eyes gaping in holes of black voids and then suddenly… suddenly, there was light._ **

********  
  


Tony was aware of death still creeping along his skin like a film of murky water he couldn’t wash away. Haunting his dreams; stealing away his breath and happiness as he barricaded himself in his room, secured the locks with nanos to ensure even someone with an impressive physical strength couldn’t force their way into his room prematurally, before he was ready to face the world that wanted so desperately for him to face it. ****  
** **

It was easy, pretending everything was okay, when you had an anchor like his. A beaming smile, genuine and soft and so fucking trusting and open; all complient on Peter’s face, reminding him that he was here, that he was back, as his hands raced down a bumpy spine and dipped into the arch of his back and traced the pink scars that had been too deep even his fast spidey abilities hadn’t been able to heal it. ****  
** **

He had been without it,  _ this,  _ for years that dragged each second out, mapping them into an eternity confined within that one small millisecond, and he vowed to never let it go. To never take for granted what he has. A hungry desperation had fueled that night, led to one of the most gratifying sexual experiences he’s ever had even with his extensive receipt still tucked beneath his belt.  ****  
** **

And he realized, as much as he wished to continue, as much as he wanted to hold on and never forget the breaths, the cried plea’s, the complete compatibility of their two bodies that even Pepper and Tony lacked after decades together, he couldn’t. Something wasn’t right. Coming back from the dead, even if he wasn’t actually himself, just a physical replica; a clone, still felt  _ wrong.  _ ****  
** **

Was he even really Tony Stark? Or just a foe dressed in his armor? Hiding in all his glorified titles with no rightful claim to anything being offered to him. Tony Stark had died as a heroic man; albeit it was a dramatic sacrifice that could have been easily avoided if he’d simply allowed Thor a chance to see if he was compatible with the stones. But he  _ did  _ die. That much was too heavily played into the reality to just forget. ****  
** **

He may not know the claim death truly has on him, on the soul he always claimed to lack, and he may not have experienced it. But he knew what dying felt like.  ****  
** **

And  _ that couldn’t be forgotten.  _ ****  
** **

He  _ died.  _ And Peter brought him back with some scraps in his lab. He was the very thing Shield avoided at all costs, took down the second they tarnished the surface with their presence, yet why was he just suddenly allowed to exist with very minimual questions asked? He was dangerous. An abomination. The very thing that questioned life itself; science merging with the beauty of human reproduction and his existence was as unnatural as a fucking talking raccoon.  ****  
** **

He shouldn’t be here. ****  
** **

And he couldn’t drag Peter down with him. ****  
** **

Except there he sat, very much alive, with civilization buzzing around him; car horns blaring in the streets below him with the hum of life gliding across his windows with a tempting call; luring him out of his shell, to take advantage of the gift he’d been given. In the years of Peter’s absence, he hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy much. Too self absorbed and focused on a cure, a solution that seemed out of reach and impossible. He couldn’t even focus on his little girl and now that he was back, here, with the opportunity to playfully pull at her little pigtails, he couldn’t bring himself to spend more than a few minutes in her presence. ****  
** **

Afraid she would call him out on being the imposter he was. He couldn’t handle that, having the one thing that centered his universe, deny him the opportunity to love and hold her like he sacrificed in those five years in favor of bringing back that one damned soul that tore the very core of the earth apart when it had been taken away.  ****  
** **

The wrongness of his return seemed to seep out of his skin that looked and felt real, and could bleed when pricked, but felt entirely  _ wrong _ on his forged bones- when he took off his clothes to study his appearance in the mirror. Curious, if anything. He looked the same, just more… unblemished. Where thick scar tissue should curve around his shoulder blade from the stray chunk of the metal spaceship being flung at him at an incredibly fast rate that it had pierced his suit with little effort; there was perfectly even and tan skin pulled taut over his protruding shoulder blade as he tugged his arm forward.  ****  
** **

Down his spine, where there had once been far too many scars for his tired eyes to track, there was an absence of anything to mare the blank canvas and it burned his eyes to stare at for too long. The body he associated himself with, was gone. And it only really struck him how this wasn’t actually  _ his  _ body, when he turned around to face the mirror head on and let his eyes focus on the one spot he’d refused to acknowledge in the month that he’d been back. ****  
** **

Where there was supposed to be the familiar blue glow of the arc reactor, faint but evident even in the darkness of his room, there was painfully smooth skin with chest hair prickling the surface. Peter had figured out an alternative for the arc reactor, using the basic design and algorithm, only slightly modified, to act as his  _ actual  _ heart, though this time it was protected within the confines of his chest and couldn’t just be easily removed.  ****  
** **

As for the problem with the suits power core, he designed a housing unit that harmlessly clung to the flesh on Tony’s skin and would only ever be removed if the man requested it. It wasn’t permanent, Tony knew that now since it laid dormant on his night stand table as he finished his horrifying ogling session. It was an advancement in their technology, responding to his neuro signals and releasing and unreleasing the seemingly suctioned grip it had on his skin and falling off in a silent command.  ****  
** **

It was all incredibly cool, and amazing if given the chance for him to think over it properly and offer himself the opportunity to admire the incredible amount of work Peter put into it, but with his distracted mind, he couldn't focus on one thing for more than a few seconds before he was drug back into the dark folds of his own mind.  ****  
** **

The hating session on his new and improved body only lasts for a few seconds before there's an unneeded squeal of feedback in the hidden intercoms in his room, Friday’s way of preventing an aggravated growl from Tony’s lips when she would just start randomly speaking without giving him warning.  ****  
** **

That, or his not-so-human ears picked up on the faultiness in the equipment. Surely an AI without a body couldn't be coherent enough to  _ know _ her popping in without warning was a little invasive and rude.  ****  
** **

That just wasn’t possible. Tony rolled his eyes at his own sarcasm. 

“Mr. Stark,” she greeted him, and he hated how vacant he felt at the lack of title he’d grown accustomed to her calling him. He wasn’t her boss anymore. Couldn’t be. “Miss Potts is requesting your presence in the common area on the Avenger’s floor. Shall I tell her you’re busy?” ****  
** **

And of  _ course  _ Pepper had to show up in the midst of his mid life- not actual life- crisis. “No, no. Tell her i’ll be down,” he said with a sigh. “And Friday?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Where’s Parker?”

“He’s in his room, sir. Still in the bathtub, like he was when you asked me ten minutes ago,” she sounded annoyed, if only a little bitter, and Tony rolled his eyes. Of course only he could invent an AI capable of giving sass and expressing emotions she shouldn’t be capable of.  ****  
** **

“Right, alright. Tell Peps i’ll be down in just a minute.”

He didn’t bother with his presentation. An obvious improvement to this body was the lack of sleep wasn’t as evident as it was on his human body. Nearly a month with only a handful of hours spent in dream land, and he still looked as fresh as ever. If only a little stale around the edges. 

Didn’t mean the physical disadvantages weren’t evident. Lagging brain, tired limbs and an overall obvious sense of him dragging ass as he pulled on a random outfit he’d undug from his closet and jogged down the stairs with a cautious bounce in his step.  ****  
** **

He was avoiding Peter. An absolutely shitty thing to do after sleeping with the kid, but the only plausible solution to the sudden chaotic stream of events that took root in his brain. If he stayed, he would only fuck the kid up further than he already was. He wasn’t proud of the knowledge that he was approaching Thanos-Tony, but he also wasn’t proud that he’d given into his desires and allowed himself the opportunity to touch knowing the second he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. ****  
** **

He didn’t want to-  _ fuck _ did he not want the chance to grab and hold on to every inch of Peter for as long as he could, but it wasn’t an option. He was too god damn lost, and Tony Stark, the actual version of himself, was never lost. Maybe a little off course, but never lost. And he couldn’t let Peter see him for all he was. For all he was lacking in his return. He wasn’t the same man. Couldn’t offer him the same things he once could.  ****  
** **

His stomach rolls as a sudden image of Peter turning to dust flashes in his eyes, imprinting the back of his eyelids with the dust he’d fell face first in after the lack of a solid body beneath him set him off center. If only he’d given in then, if only he’d saved him, and perhaps everything could have been different. Ended up different.  ****  
** **

Maybe they could have ended up as something more than a fucked up pair.

“Last time you called me down to the living room was to tell me you were pregnant,” Tony said with an arched brow, eyes roaming the room in search for any surprises before they landed on Pepper. “Not gonna drop another bomb on me like that, are you?” ****  
** **

Pepper rolled her eyes, exasperated. “That should have hardly came as a shock, Tony. I was seven months when I told you. Wasn’t exactly easy, nor capable, of hiding my bump. You were just too preoccupied to ever notice me,” ****  
** **

It wasn’t an intentional jab, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Pepper caught her slip up, shook her head, offered a sad smile and changed the topic so quickly it gave him whiplash. “When are you returning to active duty?”

Tony’s tired brain lagged for a second as it fought to catch up. He blinked. “I’m sorry,  _ what?” _

“You’ve been back for over a month, given a clean bill of health, and have already begun the improvements and modifications on your next iron man suit. So when will you be returning to take on your role as co-captain to the Avengers?” ****  
** **

“I haven-” he began to say, but clamped his mouth shut at the look Pepper gave him that said ‘don’t lie to me, I already know,’ which also gave him the reminder to update and enhance the protection on the lab and ensure nobody but him had access to his files or experiments. “Haven’t given it much thought,” he lied with a shrug of his shoulders, acting too casual to be truthful, “was just waiting for the green light from the Doc,” ****  
** **

“The ‘Doc’ being Peter?” she asked, eyes squinting when she saw the flinched reaction to the name.

Oh fuck.

A sharp nod. “Yup,” and the popped ‘p’ was definitely too much effort at trying to remain casual. 

She tilted her head to the side, studying, before her gaze sharpened into a glare. “Tell me you aren’t responsible for his current…  _ situation.” _ ****  
** **

Tony sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, sucked in a breath through his teeth and shrugged, averting his gaze to the muted tv flickering with boring images from the daily news. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Pepper groaned, and he looked over in time to watch as she flung herself back on the couch in anything but a composed bout of childish tendencies; a reflection of a child's tantrum. “You’ve been back what, all of two minutes and you’ve already messed with his head?”  ****  
** **

“I haven’t done anything!” he argued, futile in his attempts because as much as he hated it, Pepper knew him. Knew Peter. Knew the weakness the kid brought to Tony with his presence. Knew the toxic air that was held between them that only intensified the longer the two refused to acknowledge the other.  ****  
** **

She squinted her eyes again, and he watched as they grew comically wide; the fall of her face signaling the exact second the last puzzle piece fell into place. She knew. “You slept with him, didn’t you?” ****  
** **

And the flush of red to his cheeks was an obvious answer in itself, but she seemed to need the vocal confirmation that tony was refusing to offer. “Would you judge me if I did?” and suddenly, he was puffing out his chest, nose sticking in the air as he jutted out his chest in feigned courage and sureness that he definitely didn’t feel in this moment. Trying to translate that whatever her answer, he didn’t care. ****  
** **

“Depends on what you did after,” Pepper said after she spent a few seconds in a deciding silence, “Did you just screw him and leave? Or did you stay the night with him and talk it over after?” ****  
** **

Tony cringed. “What would you do if I chose C?” he asked, “Which is both?”

The gasp he got was both disappointed and shocked as a pillow was suddenly being flung at him, hitting his arm in a flutter of soft feathers forming to leave little more than a jostled impact. “You didn’t,” he nodded. “Tony! You aren’t stupid, so stop acting like it. You just took advantage of the trust that boy has for you, and he’s too goddamn smitten and overall hurt to call you out on it because he’s afraid he’s going to lose you- which i'm sure he’s already convinced he has,” ****  
** **

Tony scrubbed at his eyes, too tired and mentally drained to even argue with her or try to keep up with the conversation. “So what do you want me to do? Are you encouraging me to sleep with him some more, or leave him alone entirely?” ****  
** **

“Leaving him alone has already proven to be a bigger disaster than it’s worth,” she said, eyes darkening in a way that spoke volumes. Spoke of the time during Tony’s death. Of Venom. Regret flared hot in Tony’s heart. “You need to talk to him. Quit being an emotionally stunted jackass, and express what you’re feeling. You lost him once, Tony, and I have never seen you so broken. If you let that happen again, I’m afraid I won’t be here to help you through it. That kid has been through to much, and means too much to me, for me to allow you to just continue hurting and using him in the way you are. Talk to him, or cut it off completely. He doesn’t deserve it. Neither of you do.” ****  
** **

“What does he mean to you?” He snapped, unaware of the bond the two had formed, even if it was weak and in its early stages, during his absence. “What do you know about anything that’s going on?”  ****  
** **

She was talking about things she had no background in. She knew the Tony that had been born, not created. The tony fueled by this need to do  _ good. _ Be  _ good.  _ Save the fucking world in anyway that he could. She didn’t know anything about him now, about the scary process that was his thinking habits. About his ridiculous insomnia filled schedule. She was treating him like the monster when, for once, he was doing something so unselfish it was comical.  ****  
** **

“I know more than you think,” she said softly, “and see more than you know,” she leaned forward and grabbed her hand bag off the floor, white and small but oddly large looking in her small hands. Placing it beneath her arm, she approached Tony with soft steps so her intentions were evident and he fought off the urge to flinch back when she cupped his face in her hands, forced him to look into her eyes and her lips curled up in a doleful smile. 

“You can’t treat him like you did me,” she began, soft and guarded, “I was willing to stick around because I  _ needed _ you to need me. He’s sticking around because he  _ knows _ you need him. You both need each other. Remember you didn’t just lose him, Tony. He lost you too. And in his timeline, for a far more extensive of a time. You’ve been given a second chance. Use it.” ****  
** **

Her expression was haunted, twining with a tale that spoke with a beatific smile that looked so painfully good on her face. She wasn’t angry with him for never choosing her, for never being all she needed him to be. She was at peace with their past, with him, and the soft kiss to his cheek sealed that unspoken assurment.  ****  
** **

Didn’t mean Tony didn’t hate himself for it.  ****  
** **

He closed his eyes, heart stuttering in his chest at the gentle words and touches he didn’t deserve, and allowed himself to enjoy it if only for a second. He could do this, pull himself together enough to be all that he could be for Peter. He could treat him right, use all his mistakes with Pepper as his fuel and he would- he would do right by him. ****  
** **

When he opened his eyes, Pepper was gone. 

And for once, he didn’t feel pained by her absence. 

He felt motivated. ****  
** **

~~Peter~~ ****  
** **

Peter lays mostly submerged in the tub, the tip of his head peeking out in nothing more than a fan of hair mirroring a roosters comb, curls pressed into a flat mohawk with bubbles weaved into the strands of hair. Beneath the water's surface, he can feel the bubbles that surround him crackling, sending spritz of little droplets splashing to land on the tip of his nose in ticklish dances and he fights the urge to swipe away the bubbles. Too calm and relaxed to address or acknowledge anything more than the tiny ant-sized people marching below him, following the beat of their own ill-timed drum as they rushed to places; always having somewhere to go, somewhere to be, but never truly belonging. ****  
** **

All looking for something.. Meaningful. But their empty briefcases let show the deck of cards they’d been dealt and sadly, they mirrored Peter’s own. Too short to win, but too high to risk drawing another card with the fear of breaking looming over head.  

He was submerged in a land of pity, self-loathing brushing the surface in ripples of heat that threatened to chase away his attempt at remaining unthinking and pliant in the comforting water. 

He didn’t know what he did  _ wrong.  _

They were… They were  _ fine _ , that night. In the gym, where Tony had confessed all he held close to his chest, allowed Peter to see his biggest fears and deepest secrets before he whisked the younger boy away to Peter’s room -do to the convenience of it being closer- and he’d stole his virginity.  ****  
** **

Wreaked havoc on the boy’s innocence and he stole a lot more than just that, as they laid together in the afterglow and rather than feeling the warmth that he desperately wanted to follow, he felt… ****  
** **

_ Empty. _

He knew promises were just words that carried a weight that was meaningless if the person making said promise, commitment, had no intention of supporting the weight. A promise was meant to be broken, and it was clear Tony had no problem breaking them.  ****  
** **

But he owed Peter  _ nothing.  _

Not an explanation, or a follow up discussion that was traditional for the morning after. Peter woke up to empty sheets still streaked with their combined cum, dry patches fighting against the dark contrast of greasy fingerprints left behind from where Tony had clutched the sheets with his lube covered hand. Filling him with an emptiness not even the painful ripples from his backside could ease; the knowledge that he was  _ now  _ Tony’s (was he really, though?) doing nothing to sooth the war raging within him and bubbling under his skin in festered bubbles that, he realized, not even scalding hot water and a wash cloth could remove. ****  
** **

Still, he tried. ****  
** **

He’d stumbled to the bathroom on jelly legs, ignoring his wrecked appearance caught in a glimpse as he rushed past the mirror and immediately scrambled into the cold, porcelain shower. The door had automatically shut behind him with an unregistered click, and a small touch screen pad lit up, waiting for his shaking fingers to awaken the dormant sensors that reacted to the pad of his fingers despite his spider bite mutating his fingerprints to allow him his gripping and “sticky” pads. ****  
** **

But he couldn’t lift his arms laden with memories, of how they felt wrapped around Tony’s neck, clinging to him with a purpose of merging them into one person and he was hyperventilating by the time Friday stepped in and overrode the shower, turning on the large, square shaped rain showerhead that began with a few slow drips of cold water before he was enveloped in a warmth that chased away the chill on the outer layer of his skin but the ache was still  _ there.  _ Embedded in the deeper layers. ****  
** **

And he  _ knew _ he was overreacting. Tony had probably gotten busy, but the lack of note or warning was evidence enough that the man’s moralities were catching up with him and he regretted it. Peter could tell the moment it was over that Tony had drawn into himself and was breathing with a note of dejection clinging to each rasped heave. He was refusing to acknowledge it,  _ them,  _ even with Peter inches away from him, clinging to the pillow that smelt like Tony, painfully aware of the man shutting down behind him; withdrawing from his grasp before his very eyes. ****  
** **

_ “Tony?” He’d asked, soft and hesitant. Nose buried in the pillow, muffling his words to the extent they were almost indecipherable. _ ****  
** **

_ A second with no answer, followed by a heavy sigh. “Yeah, kid?” _

_ He chose to pretend that didn’t hurt. “You’ll be here in the morning, right?” And he hated himself for being so weak to ask a question like that, needing the reassurance to ease the tense draw of his shoulders that so badly wanted to give into the shockwaves of the after affect of his ecstasy. _ ****  
** **

_ “I-“ And he paused, having enough awareness of the situation to know Peter already  _ knew _ the pattern of his current thoughts and that’s where the question had been borne from. “I can’t promise that I will be,” he opted for, “I get busy- you know that.” and at least he wasn’t directly lying. _ ****  
** **

_ Peter offered a small nod in acknowledgment, feeling the painful burn of rejection flare bright and hot in his chest. “Alright.” _ ****  
** **

And he never imagined his first time on  _ earth  _ would end that way. With the man who had just deflowered him, perched behind his back within touching distance but actively refusing to touch or even acknowledge his presence. Yet Tony was too hung up in his respect to just get up and completely abandon the bed, even if it wasn’t  _ his.  _ This wasn’t his bed, his room, his  _ floor. _ He was to be held to a higher standard and surely sleeping in a kids bed wasn’t even close to approaching said standards border. ****  
** **

It had been a fight to relax enough to go to sleep, but it must have been in the few hours that Peter had fallen asleep in that Tony had slipped out and that was what led to Peter’s hour long shower, scrubbing away at his skin with disgust and rejectment heavy in his stomach. He’d been  _ used.  _ And what was worse, was he allowed himself to be. ****  
** **

The first day, it was all still too fresh to really do anything more than acknowledge as his body healed all Tony had touched. Erasing the proof of his claim as the hickies that had been a constellation of purple marks that trailed from the curve of his jaw, down his neck and branched out into clusters across his chest, disappeared; erasing the ache in his ass and the satisfying burn in his lower back with each and every step forward; each stretch that pushed beyond an accepted inch setting blaze to a low fire that sat at the base of his spin and licked up his ribs with each inhalation. ****  
** **

If he’d had any doubts about his original doubts of Tony regretting it, they’d been thoroughly erased and smothered that first night when the sun fell and the moon took over and still; not a single sight of Tony. Everyone else was unaware of his agitated tick, acting to hide his anxiety prone habit of prodding for questions and seeking answers wherever he could. They didn’t know why he was on edge, the sound of a chair scraping across the floor being the very trigger on his gun and setting him off in a spiral of decomposed shouting before he’d stalk into his room and  _ not  _ think of Tony. ****  
** **

The second day, he was more fidgety. Restless. Pacing in his room, refusing food and his “families” presence that were supposed to act as a comfort because now,  _ now _ they knew something was up and it was obvious it was affecting the only two geniuses in the entire tower who were too busy holed up in their respective rooms to acknowledge or talk through anything. ****  
** **

By the third day, he’d burned through the pain that was now nothing more than a twinge in his heart every time he dared think of Tony, of his soiled sheets that were balled up in the corner of his room, and instead fed into the vexation that was chewing holes through his esophagus and coming out with a twinge of irritation in his words he directed at Nat, or anyone else who dared tried to talk to him when he ventured out of his room long enough to get coffee or food or something else he probably didn’t need. ****  
** **

He hid from the shame, figuring if he didn’t acknowledge it, it couldn’t  _ find _ him. ****  
** **

Tony had used him, and that wasn’t okay. Fuck their past, and the ridiculous idea that they owed each other something,  _ anything more  _ than what they were currently offering; Tony had still fucked him the night of his official resurrection, and left. He’d dined and dashed and was now hiding away in his tower, doing a complete reverse on their agreed roles, but luckily for Peter he had his credit card info on file. Not literally, but figuratively in the sense that Tony could only run for so long, and so far, before sweet old Petey caught up with him. ****  
** **

Which is what led to the unfurling of his current plan. He kept his eyes focused on the people below him, busying about in the city he didn’t recognize as home anymore, while Nat was bustling around the room in an air of excitement as she got to work on perfecting his appearance.  ****  
** **

“We’ll do a light grey to make your eyes pop, and a slim fitted to really enunciate your curves,” she said, keeping her eyes strictly above waist level even if the thick blanket of bubbles hid anything she most definitely didn’t want to see. She then held up two different ties, and when she found neither fit the ideal image she planted in her head, they were thrown to the bathroom floor and she was rushing out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom to dig through his scarce clothing.  ****  
** **

That had, somehow, grown tremendously since Tony’s return.  ****  
** **

He just hummed along to whatever she said, fixated on nothing as his skin grew pruny and his mind restless from focusing on a specific black dot on the sidewalk that shouldn’t be visible to human eyes. “Do you think he’ll even care?” he asked, a tad timid. He lifted his hand to graze the surface of the water, collecting the bubbles to give himself something to focus on so he didn’t have to see the face Nat was sure to pull. ****  
** **

“We’re talking about Tony,” she said, head popping into the room just enough he caught sight of her bun bobbing before she disappeared out of sight again. “The most self centered man we know, yes, but when you’re involved he always has to be elbows deep otherwise he just isn’t satisfied. Even with his own guilt trip going on, he’ll know, and he’ll care. Trust me.” ****  
** **

Something about what she said did the exact opposite of comforting him, but he did trust her. He really did. Probably more than his tattered heart was willing to trust another human being.  ****  
** **

He hummed. “You overestimate his infatuation with me and the level of his caring. He hasn’t spoken to me in days, Nat. That seems to speak for itself,” ****  
** **

She walked into the room then, looking both flustered and beyond irritated as she pointed an empty hanger towards him. “If you’re not confident in this plan, then there is no reason we should continue with it.” she said, then dropped the tough love act and her eyes went disgustingly soft and mushy, “give yourself some credit, kid. It’s not like Tony is known for his great decision making. He’s probably just freaking out. He spent five years trying to get you back, and now that he has you, it’s probably put his heart into shock.” ****  
** **

Nat knew. Of course she did. She knew the second she’d seen Peter and became aware of Tony’s hibernation status. She didn’t say anything until this morning, when she’d cornered him in the kitchen and made him spill before she gave him a pity hug and set about making him a breakfast of eggs and pancakes.  ****  
** **

This was her idea, actually. Incredibly petty and ridiculous, but smart nonetheless and he was beginning to question his role in this entire thing when she held up a suit before throwing it over her shoulder, acting like it didn’t cost half a year of rent.  ****  
** **

Still, he didn’t feel as confident as she did in the entire thing working out. He knew it was fool proof, and she was right in the sense that he would be aware of what was going on, but Peter doubted it would actually lure him out of his lare and force him to face the reality of it all.  ****  
** **

Swiping a bubble covered hand down his face, Peter sighed and ignored the twisting of knots in his stomach in favor of unplugging the tub with his toe. “I hope you’re right,” he whispered, aware she wouldn’t hear what he said but he didn’t bother speaking any louder.  ****  
** **

Rising quickly with the water still calf high, he slipped out of the bath tub and scurried over to the shower before the door shut behind him, the glass immediately tinting as the water began without him moving a muscle.. He enjoyed baths, but that was to relax. Not to get clean.  ****  
** **

Washing his body once more, followed by his hair, he shaved and wrapped a towel around his waist for Nat’s sake before he stepped out of the shower and was greeted with a grinning Nat. Looking far too happy and creepy to be considered natural or comfortable.  ****  
** **

“Uh, Nat?” he asked. “You okay there?” ****  
** **

“I found it,”  she said, beaming as she held up a suit in one hand with a tie in the other. “Your suit! I found it. Now, I’m giving you ten minutes to put it on before I come back in here and attempt to do something with that mop you call hair,”

And with that, she was hanging the suit on the back of the door in the humid, steam filled bathroom and scurrying out with a giggle that sounded far too mischevious for Peter’s liking. 

Still, he got dressed. 

~~~

“I spent months trying to convince your ass that you’re worthy and this is how you repay me?” Nat asks, a tinge of disgust in her voice as her hand shoves forcefully at his head. “Come on, Peter, surely there’s  _ something  _ that your hair agrees with!” and if the famous black widow was whining, nobody said anything. ****  
** **

They were five hair gels and an hour into attempting to style his hair and yet, nothing seemed to work to coax his hair into behaving even for just an hour. Nat was irritated, obviously, but mostly just annoyed as she worked the glue substance into his hair and not even a second later, it was popping back up. “I swear to god, it does this one more time and I’m shaving it. I don’t care.” ****  
** **

_ She did.  _ But she  _ would.  _ Peter didn’t doubt that. ****  
** **

Turns out, which is very unsafe, mixing three different hair gels and following the application of siad substance with a hair dryer immediately after, hardened his hair just a tad bit and allowed it to hold it’s shape in a half dignified heap that was barely passable as a quiff. It looked more like a half formed heap of sand, decaying from the water, there, but not. Swirling of sea shells evident in the hair, the curls acting as a texture and despite that, he looked good. Well groomed, perfectly poised and put together even if he was a bundle of nerves. ****  
** **

His suit wasn’t grey like she’d originally intended, but rather a dark midnight blue with a pin striped tie, grey and black clashing with white in an attempt to dominate the tie but all the colors merged so perfectly and effortlessly and he somehow looked  _ amazing.  _ Nat was evidently good at many things, this included, and he questioned what her profession would have been if she’d not been forced into the life she was currently living.  ****  
** **

Her only problem with his appearance was the prominent bags under his eyes, evidence of his sleepless nights, and according to her, and Tony Stark’s own personal tactic, sunglasses hid those flaws well. So he had large framed, dark tinted sunglasses on that hid his imperfections perfectly and didn’t seem too out of place as he stepped out of the tower doors and was greeted with the hot sun pounding loud and relentless at his skin, prodding at his eyes even through the added protection of sunglasses.  ****  
** **

“He’s going to be so pissed that you left,” Nat squealed, far too giddy as she climbed into the black SUV that pulled up to the curb and left the door open for him to follow suit. He did, and he was greeted by the sight of a smiling Pepper. ****  
** **

Unknowing of her presence not even two hours ago in the Tower. ****  
** **

He wasn’t prepared for the bottom of his feet to open up and allow his stomach to fall through the offered exits, so he was knocked breathless in his scramble into his seat and he blushed as he fixed the sleeves of his suit once the door was closed. “Pepper,” he greeted her, choosing to ignore Nat’s comment because it was honestly the adult thing to do here. He often questioned her true age. ****  
** **

He knew Pepper was coming, that she would be here, yet this was the first time he was facing her,  _ knowing  _ she didn’t know Tony’s lips had traced patterns across his skin, too. ****  
** **

She smiled warmly at him, though a little forced if the faux crinkles by her eyes were anything to go by. “Peter, Natasha,” she greeted them before tapping hurriedly at her screen. “I have to say, I am surprised you agreed to this, and at the last minute, but it will be incredible for you PI. Just remember, things may get a little overbearing since this is your first public outing since you released your identity,”  ****  
** **

And okay, yeah. That was definitely something he should have thought of before now but there was no going back now, was there? The hum of the car engine and the smooth roll of the tires across even roads were telltale signs that it was already too late to back out. 

Hiding his gulp, Peter nodded and forced yet another smile. “I’m happy to do it,” he lied, “Really. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a public appearance just yet (he wasn’t) but when Nat told me exactly who it was for, I just couldn’t decline.” ****  
** **

Which was true. She’d threatened more than just his life if he said anything other than yes. 

Pepper flickered eyes between the two of them, not acknowledging Nat’s needed presence until just now. “Why are you here?” she asked, not at all sounding rude, just curious.  ****  
** **

“Moral support,” Nat said without missing a beat, hand going to cup over the bony surface of Peter’s knee. “Kid doesn’t have many adult role models who can offer him some support in the same way that I can. I know what he’s going through,” she shrugged, and gave a light squeeze to his knee. ****  
** **

“And Tony?” Pepper asked, missing the way Peter flinched. The name still a sweet taste on his tongue and he hated that it refused to turn bitter. “Is there a reason you asked he not be aware of your appearance today?” But was that… a knowing look? She didn’t know, did she? She couldn’t.  ****  
** **

No, he decided, she didn’t. He was just paranoid. 

Peter shook his head before Nat could interject. “He wouldn’t have agreed,” he said, which wasn’t so far from the truth that it couldn’t pass as the whole truth, “he doesn’t like the idea of the world knowing who I am, so he definitely wouldn’t like me agreeing to humor them and make a few appearances so soon after my identity was released.” ****  
** **

Pepper nodded, obviously not buying it but she pursed her lips and let the topic go, the flow of conversation dying until they reached the tall brick building. 

“We’re here,” she said, smoothing her pink pencil skirt that was paired with a white silk blouse. “You ready?”

And he wasn’t. He really  _ wasn’t.  _ ****  
** **

But; “Yeah, I am.” ****  
** **

~~~

Turns out, both he and Nat should never be allowed to plot or conspire together in anyway unless they were one hundred percent confident in their efforts and information. That, or they shouldn’t underestimate Tony’s pull and knowledge ever again.  ****  
** **

They were being ushered from backstage and towards the stage when a familiar voice licked off the walls in an echo and wrapped around Peter’s spine just as he was being thrust from the protection of the shadows and forced into the spotlight. 

“There he is!” Ellen said, giving him no time to regain his composure or fix the invisible wrinkles in his suit before all eyes were turned on him and Nat, who had cleaned up in the dressing room here and now wore a dark red dress with low cut sleeves and a deep v-neck that somehow didn’t look inappropriate on her.  ****  
** **

Peter’s heart stilled in his chest as he focused on _ him _ , all air getting knocked out of his lungs and he wasn’t aware the floor wasn’t actually falling apart as the rest of the room drew to a stand still until Ellen spoke again.  ****  
** **

“Spider-Man and the Black widow,” Ellen said, addressing them by their alternate identities as Nat placed a comforting hand on his lower back and lead him towards the couch, the commotion of the fans in the audience sufficiently cutting off whatever the man sat in the large white chair had been saying.  ****  
** **

“Wow,” she began again once they’d all taken their respective seats, Nat and Peter sat pressed hip to hip on the small white couch with enough space between them to breath the obvious and familiar air of acquaintance and nothing more.  “we never thought we’d get one Avenger on the show, yet here we are, with three! And with Iron-man, nonetheless!” ****  
** **

“Ouch,” Nat responded so effortlessly as she subtly slid closer to Peter and laid a hand on top of his, fingers twitching against fingers with the soft couch acting as a cushion beneath them. “He’s not that great. Just some over-glorified transformer,” ****  
** **

Ellen laughed, all loud and obnoxious and that seemed to set the fans off but Peter couldn’t focus on anything other than the man sitting directly across from him. Looking perfectly normal and at ease, not a single sign of his recent breakdown slithering to the surface, leaving everyone in this room but those three aware that he’d acted like a toddler and locked himself in his room for the last three days.

His facial hair was perfectly trimmed, precise and perfect and he smelt heavenly; Peter could smell him even from over here- and it seemed like Peter’s absence in his life did nothing to him. The bags under his eyes weren’t there, nothing to mirror the young boys own, and he was dressed just as immaculate as he was every other day.  ****  
** **

Yet, he refused to look at Peter even as his eyes focused intently on the woman beside him. “I’m sorry?” he said, “Next time, this ‘over-glorified transformer’  _ won’t  _ help your ass on the field.” ****  
** **

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep,” she snarked back, a bit of bite in her words that Ellen seemed to noticed because she waved a hand between them to call for a truce and laughed yet again. ****  
** **

“As lovely as that was,” she began, “we have some real questions to get to.”

Which translated to questions about Tony’s resurrection and exactly what that entailed and if he was still human, and when he cut the tip of his finger to prove he could still bleed, Peter found himself growing nauseous. More and more so as the seconds on the clock ticked by, as every question was asked about him but never to him and he couldn’t do anything but stare helplessly at Tony, begging for some acknowledgement knowing he would never get any.  ****  
** **

And somehow, the topic changed to Thanos and his spine was immediately going ramrod straight and his body was given a new task to mewl over so his stare off with the side of Tony’s head was abandoned as he focused on an undefined blank spot on the coffee table and just stared. Trying so hard not to let the murky water of memories that began to lap at the base of his skull at the name, to drag him back into  _ that _ world, those memories, and create yet another endless void. An emotional turmoil with no escape- one that would be nationally broadcasted.  ****  
** **

“I was one of the lucky ones who wasn’t banished,” she said, and okay, apparently that was what they were calling it. “But it seems like our little spider-boy wasn’t as lucky.” ****  
** **

“Spider-Man,” Tony corrected her as he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as his eyes subtly flicked to Peter for a millisecond before they found Ellen’s again. “And why don’t we not focus on the entire Thanos thing? He’s gone. He’s been dealt with and I think I can speak for everyone here, when I say he has already caused too much harm and been allowed too much power over so many people. Let’s not give him another second of our time.” ****  
** **

But for some reason, Peter felt compelled to tell a different story than Tony. “I wasn’t,” he agreed, voice distant and vacant, “I was..  _ Banished _ , to another place that was an exact mirror of earth. For an extensive amount of time.” ****  
** **

He could feel Tony’s gaze on him, hot and steady, making every hair on his body stand on alert yet he didn’t acknowledge the stare in favor of sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Unaware of what compelled him to spill his truth, even just a little bit. Of what was drawing his mouth lax and pulling out all his words.  ****  
** **

Ellen seemed to like his direction of the conversation, because she ignored Tony entirely as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees to listen to Peter speak. “And what happened in this earth?” ****  
** **

“Nothing that hasn’t happened on this earth,” he said softly, a sad note twinging with each word, depression heaving an ugly breath into his own.  ****  
** **

Tony’s heart thudded hard at that, loud and unforgiving against his ribcage. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said, and he sounded hurt, the emotion easily masked behind a sense of cautiousness as he spoke, “something has happened that didn’t happen on that earth,” he argued, leaving everyone else unaware of what he was saying but Peter couldn’t exactly fill in the blanks for them.  ****  
** **

_ Pepper isn’t the only one in this building who knows what he tastes like. _ ****  
** **

_ Pepper isnt the only one who knows what her name sounds like as Tony is calling it out in the midst of an orgasm, completely falling apart and undone, raw to the touch. _ ****  
** **

The tension hung high and heavy in the air, thick, as Peter finally lifted his eyes and locked them with Tony’s. His sunglasses adding a sense of anonymity to the stare even if that thought was just to kid himself. He couldn’t hide around Tony. “Same outcomes, just different paths,” he said with a shrug. ****  
** **

They stared at each other, seconds ticking into a minute as a muscle in Tony’s jaw danced as he clenched and unclenched it. “You really feel that way, kid?” ****  
** **

“You haven’t given me much reason to feel otherwise,” ****  
** **

And he knew it was premature, that Tony had done nothing more than stare at him and subtly question his sanity, but hope unfurled in his chest.  ****  
** **

Tony pursed his lips before he gave a thoughtful bite to the corner of his bottom lip. Fast and sharp as his canines dug into the soft flesh before he let it roll from between the harsh grasp. “I made you a promise, and I don’t take those lightly,” he finally said, and Peter’s breath stuttered in his chest. ****  
** **

“Is that why you followed me here?” Peter egged him on, breathless. “Fulfilling a promise you made to yourself?”

Tony’s lip jerked in a sort-of sad smile that he fought back. “I’ve broken many promises I made to myself,” and his eyes darkened at that, reminding Peter of just how many  _ he _ was privy to. “Following you wouldn’t be the first, or the worst.”  ****  
** **

And  _ shit.  _ Was he even breathing at the current moment? 

Both completely forgot where they were, that they were currently being recorded live until Ellen leaned forward, breaking the moment, and called for a break. 

“Look,” she said as soon as the camera finished filming, “I don’t know what that was, but can you two work it out before we pick back up? You have five minutes. Wrap it up.” ****  
** **

~~~

“Why  _ did _ you come?” was the first thing Peter asked when he’d managed to force his unwilling legs into a hunched stance before he stalked into the closed off area of the backstage, sound equipment and added props lining the tables and floor but he ignored them in favor of spinning on his heel to face Tony who had, for some reason, willingly followed him like a good little puppy with his tail trapped between his legs. 

Tony looked shocked by the question, but brushed it off as he picked up a pair of boxer briefs with Ellen’s face on them and grimaced. “It was an open invitation,” he said with a casual shrug, “I figured I was as welcome as you were.”

“Cut the bullshit, Tony,” he snapped, unaware of where this sudden courage came from but he was living for it, “Is this a continuation of your game? Y-You’ve had me, okay? You can say you gave me a pity fuck because you felt bad for what happened in an earth you had no control over but  _ please.  _ If I’m- if this isn’t what you want, then leave me alone.”

Tony took a step forward, unsure, and lifted a hand like he wanted to reach out and touch Peter but ultimately thought better of it as his hand fell to his side and his fingers curled into a white knuckled fist. “I-” ****  
** **

“Save it,” Peter cut in with a raised hand, shaking with effort, “Go out, continue parading around like the hero you are and  _ I’ll  _ go home. Save you the embarrassment from having to deal with me,” 

And whatever had been fueling him for that short exchange, left his body in an evaporated rush and he was running from his security in the corner where Tony had been only inches in front of him, begging to be touched even if his words scream otherwise, his action. And Nat was greeting him at the stage exit, an arm winding around his shoulder as she talked him off the ledge as he hyperventilate into her shoulder, dampening her bare flesh with his wet breaths as he tried his damndest to focus on how to  _ breath.  _ ****  
** **

May had always told him having your heart broken was the worst feeling in the world, but he’d never listened. He didn’t understand how a single person could have so much power over another person, how their actions could call for the very world to end, but then Tony had died and he  _ felt  _ the earth cry with him at the loss. Then he came back, and he foolishly thought all would be mended and fixed.  ****  
** **

But what had started as nothing more than a bothersome ache in the center of his chest, now was rippling in pulsing streaks of this blinding pain; agony a black stain on his lips he couldn’t scrub away, couldn’t wash from his mouth even with the water Nat offered him pooling in his chewed raw cheeks.  ****  
** **

His stitched heart was bursting at the seams, reminding him of a time when he’d sat sheepishly on the ledge of a roof with Tony hovering in front of him,  scolding him like he was a child and reminding him, yet again, he was  _ nothing _ . Not a hero, but a kid who stupidly thought he could take on the tasks of the adults and  _ win.  _ ****  
** **

How fucking niave had he been to actually consider that to be the worst pain he’d ever felt? ****  
** **

If he could rewind the clocks, reverse time and steal back those moments where he sat in silence, he would happily spend eternity in the pain trapped in those tense seconds, if only to forget what he was feeling right now. ****  
** **

Because right now, he was convinced he was dying and it felt so much worse than when he’d disintegrated into nothing on Titan. ****  
** **

More real, solid.  ****  
** **

~~~ ****  
** **

Tony didn’t even let the spot Peter left vacant, go cold before he was replacing his body heat with another; a more familiar one in shape sense and he hated how perfect the two looked pressed together. It was in front of Ellen’s building, Pepper clinging to his side with her arm bent and draped over his chest as she buried her head in the side of his neck, and Tony was in mid laugh, head tipped back to expose his tan neck, flesh smooth and unmarred pulling taught over his adams apple and Peter’s own throat grew tight. ****  
** **

He looked genuinely happy. She did too. And he wouldn’t have even questioned the photo, would have looked at it, acknowledged the slight twinge of jealousy, and just assumed they were yet again doing another public appearance to sooth the stock sharers ever growing worry over their relationship; silently assuring them with photos that their friendship-  _ relationship, _ was as solid as it has ever been. ****  
** **

Until he read over the title, “Pepper Potts and Tony Stark’s relationship rekindled in wake of genius’ return? Swipe to find out more,” he stupidly swiped right, phone angled away from Wanda’s prying eyes as she shoveled a heaping spoonful of sugary cereal into her mouth and pretended she was reading the back of her cereal box even if Peter could see her eyeing his phone from the corner of her eye.  ****  
** **

The first photo had been harmless, sure, but the second not so much. He tried convincing himself it was all a play on the angles, that they’d caught the two in the midst of a movement and captured them in the perfect hairs breath of a second and it resulted in  _ this.  _ But he knew better. Knew he was fucking foolish and his stomach clenched with a sudden punch of nausea.  ****  
** **

Their eyes were closed, Tony’s head tilted to the side and you could clearly see his lips were planted firmly on the other woman’s, Pepper’s dainty hands so pale and small looking pressed against his chest, clutching the lapels of his ridiculous designer blazer he’d worn over a different AC/DC shirt to the interview.  ****  
** **

And Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying, from allowing the sudden burning in the back of his eyes to turn into more than just an uncomfortable sensation as he excused himself from the table, the article still pulled up and fresh with the little, ‘posted 3 minutes ago,’ time stamp going blurry in his vision as he rushed to his room and slammed the door shut. ****  
** **

Thinking him and Tony could be anything, have anything, more than just a friendship was a fucking joke. Peter was clumsy. Loud. Obnoxious. Childish, and he definitely couldn’t dance. But he’d thought that over, pictured him and Tony making snide comments about yet another fundraiser or social event they were drug to that were full of stiff, snobby nosed board members and people of a high social standing or who were just so simply rich their presence were never questioned. He’d make up for all he lacked, by being everything Tony wanted. Doing everything he asked. ****  
** **

But even he couldn’t deny he would ever look  _ that  _ good in a picture caught in pure luck. Tony was a lady’s man; a womanizer, and dabbling with men may not be foreign to him but they most certainly didn’t belong on his arm at the end of the night.  ****  
** **

And if Peter held the phone clutched to his chest as he sobbed into the phone that night, nobody would ever know.  ****  
** **

And if he blocked every article that involved the worlds strongest ‘power couple,’ Friday certainly didn’t question it.  ****  
** **

Nobody would know. Nobody would  _ care.  _ ****  
** **

In another world, this was his normalcy. In this world, he’d allowed himself to get accustomed to  a person’s presence. Leaving him to once again, hide behind false smiles and reassurances as he got a grasp on his feelings yet again and hid so effortlessly nobody would ever know the crack in his facade was from a lot more than just a failed mission. That the entire persona he wore, was just a skin. To be taken off each and every night. To hide him from the reality of how damaged, unloved, lonely and utterly  _ broken  _ he was.  ****  
** **

Tony obviously didn’t care. So, he decided not to either. ****  
** **

~~~ ****  
** **

He woke up the following morning to a damp pillow, swollen eyes and a knott between his eyes that throbbed in time with his heartbeat and refused to lessen even when he dry swallowed a modified pain killer Bruce had given him specifically designed for his fast burning metabolism.  ****  
** **

He’d been dragging his feet behind him on his trip back from his ensuite bathroom when the sweet smell of syrup twinged with the oaky scent of bacon caught his nose, and with a grumble from his stomach, he sucked up his emotions, locked them in a safe hidden within the most damaged parts of his heart, and went down stairs. ****  
** **

Falsely believing he was  _ safe _ because Tony hadn’t frequented the kitchen in the entire time he’d been back. He chose to rather hide while everyone else made food, only ever bothering to entire the area when he had to make himself a cup of coffee with the machine he claimed only he could use properly.  ****  
** **

“ _ It’s like a virgin,” _ he told Steve one day, while he filled the small chamber with water and slide a single cup beneath it, white with a ridiculous iron-man mask stamped on the front. “ _ You can’t be rough with it. It’ll scar it. You have to be gentle and maneuver it to its wishes. So you and your virgin bear hands better steer clear of it or i’ll shove Bucky’s metal arm up your ass,” _ ****  
** **

Steve never tried making himself a cup of coffee again after that. ****  
** **

Yet there Tony stood, flipping pancakes at the stove with his back to Peter, dressed in a white night shirt that was loose around the waist but clung to every available inch of skin spanning across his broad shoulders; clinging to his biceps like a second layer of skin and Peter licked his lips as he took a step forward in a primal advancement before he became aware of his surroundings and ducked his head in embarrassment.  ****  
** **

Nobody seemed to notice, he noted as he glanced around the room. But in his search, he found a sleep mused woman leaning against the counter; her elbows propped on the flat surface with a little girl sat paired at her hip on her own stool. Both’s hair were a matted mess, Pepper dressed in pink silk pajamas while Morgan wore a long Disney Princess nightgown that was pink with ruffled sleeves. ****  
** **

And oh. ****  
** **

_ Oh.  _ ****  
** **

They  _ slept  _ here. ****  
** **

Peter’s heart stuttered with a painful ache taking root in his chest. Of course they slept together. Pepper was- she was everything that Peter wasn’t and the sway in Tony’s black pajama pants clothed hips was signal enough to him that the man had obviously allowed himself to get some sleep.  ****  
** **

Pepper wasn’t just a kid, after all. And they probably slept in Tony’s room, in his space. ****  
** **

Feeling his throat clamp shut as the bile steadily rose and licked at his tonsils, Peter took a stumbling step back and that seemed to catch a certain little girls attention because she turned with a shriek. “Spider-Man!” she yelled, Tony’s spin straightening as his grip on the spatula tightened, “Daddy said you wouldn’t be around today!” ****  
** **

Peter swallowed thickly, forcing the vomit back down to lay dormant in his stomach- arising a sloshing tsunami as it battled in the confines of his stomach and seeked an exit. “You’re Dad was right,” he lied, keeping his eyes focused solely on the girl even when he seen Tony turn to face him. “I- I just came down to say goodbye to some friends,” ****  
** **

And okay, apparently he was leaving? Which, actually, wasn’t a bad idea. Some time away seemed good, a chance to clear his thoughts and breath in an air that wasn’t thick with everything Tony. The man’s very presence called for attention, demanded it as soon as he entered a room and even when he vacated an area, he still left an air of authority in his wake and that was hard to ignore especially with Peter’s heightened senses. Everything reeked of Tony except for right now his scent was off.  ****  
** **

Floral. ****  
** **

That called for Pepper’s attention, the woman shushing her frowning daughter as she turned to Peter with a quizzical arch to her brow. “Oh?” she asked, “and where are you going?” ****  
** **

Peter blushed, shuffling on his feet as he averted his gaze to the ground, trying to pretend the rush of blood to his cheeks was from embarrassment when the reality was jealousy was rearing its ugly head when it caught sight of the woman’s completely dazed look.  ****  
** **

“My aunts,” he offered in a split second of panic, “I’m not needed here, currently, and I know she misses me so I figured I would go  _ home  _ for a while.” he offered a lame shrug. ****  
** **

Tony turned slow, scarily slow, and eyed Peter with a look that was.. Was it anger? “When did you decide this?” he asked and yes, that was definitely anger. He didn’t have any right to be angry over Peter’s decisions. He forfeited it the second he left without a word. ****  
** **

“Last night,” he lied yet again, looking in Tony’s general direction but refusing to meet his gaze. “Seen some things,” his eyes flickered to Pepper even though he fought the need, and he knew Tony caught it, “The Tower is a nice place, but I need a change of scenery. Going back to my roots will be nice. I-I need some time away, Mr. Stark,” ****  
** **

And Tony  _ cringed _ at the name.  ****  
** **

“I see,” he said with a nod, turning back to the stove in a daze and offering nothing more.  ****  
** **

Peter shifted on his feet again. “Right, well, I guess I’ll go say bye and get packed up?” ****  
** **

_ Please,  _ his brain begged,  _ ask me to stay.  _ Or,  _ just tell me it isn’t real. That you guys aren’t back together. That we still have a chance.  _ ****  
** **

Nothing.  ****  
** **

Until; “Stay for breakfast?” and it was Morgan who asked, hope a light tinkle in her words as she rounded in her stool to pin Peter with a wide, puppy eyed look.  ****  
** **

“I really should get go-” he began.  ****  
** **

“Stay for breakfast,” Tony cut in, “amuse the kid and show her that he favorite superhero partakes in healthy eating habits.” ****  
** **

“Ignore him,” Pepper said with a fond sigh, paired with an eye roll as she smiled at Peter, “he’s still bitter that you’re Morgan’s favorite Avenger even though he’s given her a ride in one of the suits,” ****  
** **

Peter grinned at that, genuine as he took a hesitant step forward. “Come on,” he scoffed, “I wasn’t even offered a ride in his suit, and I’ve been his biggest fan for  _ years.  _ Surely you realize Iron-Man is cooler than silly old Spider-man.” ****  
** **

Morgan shook her head vehemently, falling to the floor as she slid off the stool with a soft plop as he bare feet stuck to the hardwood floor. “Daddy tries too hard to be cool,” she argued, stepping towards Peter, “but if you ask nicely, he’ll give you a ride,” she added in a conspiricial whisper once she reached Peter and pulled him down to her height. “Mommy said Daddy’s a sucker for pretty faces,” ****  
** **

Tony laughed at that, loud and sharp and bursting the moment as Peter fell back on his ass with a wide gaze as he blinked multiple times in confusion, “Um,” he tried, several times, to think of anything more to say but drew a blank for ten agonizingly long seconds before his hazy gaze focused back on Morgan’s beaming face. ****  
** **

She looked so much like Tony. His heart stuttered at the thought. “Thanks for the advice,” he whispered to her, hating how high pitched his voice had gone as he scrambled back onto his knees. “But I thin-”

“Congratulations, Man, I’m happy for you!” Rhodey said as he entered the kitchen, cutting off what Peter was saying as he strode confidently across the room and gave a confused Tony a harsh slap on the back in congratulations and pulled him into a half hug. “You too, Pep,”

He winked at them both. “Am I missing something here?” Tony asked, and he actually looked lost. 

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Quit playing coy, Tony, it never suited you. I’m talking about yours and Peps relationship! I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other for longer than a few months.” ****  
** **

Peter stills.

Tony looks partly confused, partly disgusted at the accusation and looks to Pepper. “Did I hear him correctly?”

“I-I think so?” the woman said, forehead wrinkled. 

“We saw the pictures,” Nat said, adding the bitterness Peter felt into the equation as she stalked into the room with a murderous glint in her eye that was reserved just for Tony.  ****  
** **

Panic strikes in Peter’s heart then, rising in volume as his pulse quickened and his stomach clenches. But he doesn’t miss when Tony’s face falls, going completely blank it was scary as Nat turned her phone screen towards him and a reflection of him and Pepper kissing was seen in the dead mirror of his brown, glassy eyes.  ****  
** **

“It’s a mistake,” he said with a shake of his head, “We were-”

_ More,  _ Peter’s body chants,  _ tell me more.  _ It was unhealthy, to need a sentence bred with the intentions of defence to crumble away the truth that came with these photos but he needed Tony to say it. He needed to hear it come from the man’s mouth. ****  
** **

He waited with baited breath. 

“Come on, Tones,” Rhodey grumbles.  ****  
** **

“He isn’t lying,” Pepper cuts in, “We aren’t back together. The second photo was caught at the exact second he leaned forward to kiss my cheek. If you blow the photo up enough, you can see his lips are nowhere close to connecting with mine,”  ****  
** **

And okay, it wasn’t from Tony but it was still  _ something.  _

“Exactly,” Tony said, looking directly at Nat as he spoke but Peter wasn’t delusional; he seen the brown orbs flicker in his direction for a split second. “We were leaving after the interview,” he continued, turning to tend to his bubbling pancake batter. “And, if we’re being completely honest, we weren’t even discussing anything related to us in the first photo. We were talking about Peter.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry. “Me?” ****  
** **

Tony nods, back still to him. “Ellen was none too happy when she discovered her main conversationalist for the evening abandoned his live interview.” ****  
** **

“Tony was saying how it took him three strippers and a sex scandal to give him enough leverage and pull to leave a interview without seeming like a complete asshole, yet Peter did it on his first actual interview and was talked about as a hero for having the courage to even dicuss his life in the Realm of Souls, no matter how vague. I made a joke about Peter being more mature than him, and he agreed which made both of us laugh because it was  _ true. _ ” ****  
** **

“But i-” Peter’s brain was short circuiting, “you stayed the night?” ****  
** **

“Not planned, but Tony promised Morgan a front row seat to witnessing an Avenger’s training routine and she refused to go home so we stayed in the guest room,” ****  
** **

All the tension left Peter’s body then, deflating as he visibly sagged in relief, “Oh,” ****  
** **

“Nice to know my life is just so casually discussed,” Tony said snidely as he poured a new batch of batter on the flat skillet, “I’ll take the congratulations anyway, though. You never give me enough credit for anything else I do,” ****  
** **

“Maybe because you’re shit at everything else,” Nat sneered, seemingly not as smitten to the man as Peter was and not as willing to let everything go. “Except for maybe being an asshole. Sure aced that course there, genius.” ****  
** **

“What are you on about?” Tony asked, exhausted. 

Nat’s eyeballs fluttered in an over exaggerated eye roll. “Think for a second,” her eyes gave a pointed stare in Peter’s direction, going unnoticed by everyone else but Pepper who backed her up with a nod Peter couldn’t even possibly try to dissect at the moment, “then ask yourself that question again, rust bucket.”

Having enough with it all, the secret conversations and being the blunt end of the joke, Peter took Morgan’s hand as quietly and carefully as he could and held a finger to his lips before he drug her out of the room and down the long corridor without anyone else noticing their departure. ****  
** **

“The adults are boring,” he said, slightly amused at the giddy bounce in the little girls steps, “so why don’t we have some fun?”

~~~

Tony found them not ten minutes later, Morgan clinging to Peter’s back as he swung them lazily around the room alternating between gripping points for different advantages and he’d take her high one second, soaring into the rafters, before he suddenly dropped and she was giggling maniacally as her toes brushed the floor.  ****  
** **

Her arms were webbed around his neck, wrists covered in the thick webbing and ankles crossed delicately to rest above his navel, ensuring there was no chance of her slipping. 

“This is so much better than Daddy’s suit!” she’d scream, hair air tossed and hazardous sticking up all over the place as she gave an excited shriek. They were both lost in the sensation of flying, of falling, and of diving that they weren’t aware of their audience.  ****  
** **

“We will pretend Daddy didn’t hear that,” the man said, arms crossed over his chest and he seemed to have mastered the brooding look as he peered at them both with his perfectly arched brows pinched tight over his calculating eyes. 

Still, there was a look, a certain tick to his stance, that registered in Peter’s mind as.. Something. Not love, but definitely in close relation as he watched the two.

Peter was barely out of breath, only a slight increase of his breathing giving tell of the extent of their workout as he flung them high in the air, pointed his feet, did a little cross flip mid air and landed directly in front of Tony in a ridiculous courtesy, his shirt riding up and hiked in place by Morgan’s soft heel. ****  
** **

“She said you’d come looking for her,” he said, choosing not to bring up their abandoned conversation in the kitchen as he gave a tug at the webs around her feet and wrists and they peeled apart like they were nothing more than thick clouds of cotton candy and fell to his feet in a fluttered drop; floating like a feather.  ****  
** **

“Always do,” he said, voice gruff as he laid a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder while Morgan clambered down his lean body in a quick retreat and left the two alone as she ran from the room in a teetered run, dazed and excited with a shout over her shoulder about finding her mom.  ****  
** **

Only, he didn’t remove it. Not even with Morgan gone, and only tightened his hold when Peter looked down to find his fingers were curling into a possessive hold. 

Several minutes passed in a pregnant silence, tension heavy and thick, leaving the two just staring at one another, eyes willing and daring the other to break and speak first.  ****  
** **

“Why do you think I’m weak?” Peter finally asked, “I can handle a lot of things, you know? But you- you treat me like I’m fragile. Like I can’t handle anything. I’m not- I’m not  _ weak,” _ ****  
** **

Tony’s face softened  _ drastically  _ following that whispered admittance. “Of course you’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know, Pete,”

“Then why won’t you let me decide what I want?” He asked, bursting with an unbridled rush of courage as he moved his head up to look at Tony. “I can handle it, the rejection, if you don’t  _ want  _ me. But I think you do. And you don’t get to decide if I’m strong enough to have you or not,” ****  
** **

Tony looked stunned for a second, mouth opening and closing in a mirrored fish attempt at unburying himself from the grave he’d dug not three days ago. His eyebrows knitted over eyes that pinched at the corners with a dormant sense of desolation; heartache. ****  
** **

“Because it isn’t healthy,” the man finally admitted in a defeated sigh as he took a step forward, seemingly drawn forward; compelled for proximity but repulsed by the idea of actually being close in all the ways that mattered. “Me, you, is isn’t  _ healthy.  _ I’m fucking lost, kid. I don’t know a goddamn thing that this planet has to offer me, and I don’t know where I fit in quite yet. Dragging you along with me will just be incredibly cruel and selfish on my part.”

“That isn’t fair,” Peter insisted, taking a step towards him, too. “I came back after being away for twenty four  _ years  _ and had to play along with their timeline like their five years actually meant something to me. Being lost isn’t something that is foreign to me, Tony, yet here I am.  _ Trying  _ to make it work.”

That’s so much more than Tony could claim right now. Where had his courage gone? His decision to be all he could be for Peter?

Oh, right. It went right out the window the second he saw the kid with Morgan. How easily it would have been then for him to swipe away two birds with one stone; erase to relationships with only a few words.  ****  
** **

Tony smiles indignantly. “Do you not think i’ve tried?” disgust twisted with his glare; a glowering look being over powered as his upper lip curled and his eyebrows drew down over heated eyes. “I died, Peter! For christ sakes, I fucking died and you expect me to just be perfectly alright the second I come back? To be ready and willing to jump into a relationship with a  _ kid  _ I was intended to mentor.” ****  
** **

And there it was. The wrong piece being removed from their game of Jenga and it all came crashing down.  ****  
** **

Tony lost him the second he brought up the mentor thing. ****  
** **

Peter clenched his jaw, the neediness, the pleading, that had slipped into his posture and face gone as his features fell lax and he fixed Tony with a heated glare. Looking so abnormal on his face, yet feeling so right. “I never asked you to be alright, Tony, and I never asked you to jump into a relationship with me. I asked you to  _ try _ to be more so we could see what this was even between us, but I can clearly see our cards just don’t match up,”

He was shoving past Tony then, shoulder hitting against shoulder in a harsh clash that left Tony hissing in a sharp breath. Only he made it mere inches before a had was grabbing his wrist and pulling him to a halt, and he hated how the sudden absence of tension, of anything grounding; a solid emotion, leaves him disoriented. Slow to the draw as Tony spins him around and he becomes winded when he realizes how close they are. ****  
** **

The proximity dizzying, an alluring effect of alcohol without all the unnecessary shots. 

“Don’t walk away,” the older man snapped, holding on to barely there strings in an attempt to hold on for just a second longer to something that was so clearly frayed beyond saving. Damage done by his own hands. “I’m not finished talking to you,”

Peter sways in his stance, mental barrier barely holding back years of emotions, tears, heartbreak, insignificant memories of touches that meant  _ nothing.  _ Tony’s touch was just acting as the unbinding solution for his adhesive sticky tabs, and slowly, he felt as each corner began to lose their hold, their touch with reality, and he was giving in.  ****  
** **

“What is there left to say?” Vacant eyes found Tony’s; hollow as they lock him in place.  ****  
** **

Tony gulps, takes a step forward and his fingers trail down Peter’s arm in a ghost of a brush before he’s closing his fingers around Peter’s own long digits and squeezing, meaning to expose the knowledge that he was sorry, so fucking sorry, and that he would take it all back if he could.  ****  
** **

“I-” but Peter was right, there was nothing left to be said unless he wanted to undo everything he just attempted to write in stone. “Just because this didn’t pan out between us, doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. I’ll-I’m always here, Peter,” ****  
** **

_ Always.  _

“Only when convenient for you,” Peter shot back, shaking off his hand. He remembers all too vividly of being shut out while he was in his most vulnerable state, having just offered himself to a man who clearly doesn’t want him and he should feel ashamed, embarrassed even, but he felt disgusted most of all. With himself.  ****  
** **

For giving into a fantasy; entertaining it enough a night of fun had seemed like it could pan into a lifetime of memories. Tony was right. Peter was asking for too much, too soon.  ****  
** **

Tony looked hurt, but didn’t get a chance to say anything before Peter was turning his back to him. 

He couldn’t do this. It was too much too soon, too little for what he was actually asking but the rejectment was clear and he was suddenly  _ drowning.  _

“I’m leaving Tony,” his voice was too  _ thick _ , wobbling despite his attempt at staying steady-- finality ringing in his words with his footsteps echoing in the closed off area. “Don’t follow me,” ****  
** **

_ And please,  _ he wanted to ask as he pushed open the door and walked in a rush step forward into the open hallway and greedily inhaled the fresh air as he felt everything began to fall in heaps of crumbled mess around him,  _ come for me when you’re ready.  _ ****  
** **

A man that was meant to be his saving grace, his only chance at ever feeling normal again, teaching him all was not hopeless after Thanos and that he would be  _ okay _ , had done the exact opposite and now he was  _ broken.  _ More so than when the alien was his puppet master, and Peter was hung up on his strings.  ****  
** **

Would he ever truly be okay? 

Tony’s words rang in his ears, dousing them with gasoline and doing a damn good job of scrubbing clean the words spoken in comfort; reassurance. The crackling of fire as he finally combusted in a ball of flames replacing the words Tony had whispered to him that night, praising and loving, drawing him together while unknowingly pulling him apart at the seams- proving Peter had done nothing more than risen to his place in Tony’s bed to be all he could be, to please him in all the ways he could.  ****  
** **

Thanos took away his safe haven, destroyed the home he’d attempted to build for himself before situation Endgame, and now all that was left was a decaying porch he refused to leave because he vould still remember all the good times, could see them as if he was witnessing them in present time and not just living in his mind, in a time untouched by Thanos and so uncomplicated it was comical. But Tony… Tony just bulldozed the entire foundation of his life and erased all the good, leaving an empty slate and offering him nothing more to hold on to. ****  
** **

He kept that in mind as he packed his bags in a rush, stuffing everything he could into the tiny black duffle bag, only taking the things he knew to be his and not the things Tony had bought him. ****  
** **

With loneliness still a bandage around his bones, he opened the window to the small ledge of his bedroom and swung his legs out of the window with one last glance around the room. This, he decided, this would always be his home but sometimes, a home outgrew a person and it seemed like this place didn’t fit him anymore.  ****  
** **

He was an outsider, an intruder. Playing pretend to hide how affected he was by whatever magical stunts Thanos had pulled. He was ruined in more ways than just that, however, and it was evident in the track of his feet across the side of the building. Drawn in, caving into the bending of his own body with the illusion of expanding into more as he leaned forward and took that leap.  ****  
** **

Leaving behind nothing of significance, but everything of value to him as the tower grew to nothing more than a blip in the background and he got lost to the whistling of the wind.  ****  
** **

He may always remain lost, but somehow, in some way, the wind would always call to him and guide him towards a home not a place, but a feeling. A feeling of tears drying against his cheeks in tight trails, reminding him it may not have been perfect, but one night- that single night, had been  _ worth it.  _

So worth it to say that for just a  _ second,  _ he had been worthy enough to belong to Tony Stark. 


	2. Do you care for Tony?

_ You’ve had me this entire time.  _

****

The words rang in his ears as he folded and unfolded the shirt now laying across his lap in a ball of fabric; crumpled in frustration. If that wasn’t the biggest fucking lie ever told, Peter wasn’t sure  _ what _ would actually qualify. In the wake of his death, Tony had been peered at as a heroic man, so trustworthy and honorary. Every single word uttered was to be cherished, brandished as an undeniable truth, wore as an armor of protection and if Peter is honest, it was those five words that had kept him going even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

****

Because he liked he pretend he did have Tony. That their nights in the lab weren’t just friendly meetings, two ridiculously smart people working and corresponding in the same area as they bounced ideas off of each other and fed into the knowledge each was offering. He liked to pretend Tony looked at him with that awe-struck look every single day, an exact replica of the one he’d received the day he’d stole Steve’s shield and had been unofficially introduced to the Avengers; the one Tony sported the second he seen Peter after his return from the Realm of souls. 

****

It was memories like those, that made it hard to forget. 

****

But it was memories like Tony being so cold and distant, non compliment and  _ harsh,  _ speaking words knew to tarnish his armor if only to put distance between them- that made it that much easier to stay away. 

****

A day turned into two, two to three and he was approaching week two with no word from Tony. Not that he checked his phone religiously every thirty minutes or anything. 

****

Pathetic, he knows. 

****

May had been delightfully surprised to see him, a little unsure on how to react or what to say, but happy nonetheless as she led Peter into his room with only a few words offered in acknowledgment to how strange this actually was, and he was left standing alone in the middle of his childhood room, feeling like a stranger amongst his lego figures and posters. This room scream  _ Peter _ but it wasn’t his any longer. 

****

He didn’t give her the exact reason he was here. Just played it off like he was home sick, the same excuse he’d fed to Nat when she called him but somehow, and this came as no surprise to him, she knew he was lying. 

****

He didn’t keep her on the phone long enough to confirm nor deny. 

****

Friday was, to his knowledge, still his to own but he’d temporarily passed complete control over her to Wanda, knowing she was trustworthy and wouldn’t let it all go to her head and she definitely wouldn’t be smug and use the temporary title to flaunt in the others face as a badge of Honor like Steve or Sam would have. 

****

He wasn’t running, or hiding. He just simply became despondent to the people reaching out to him and when he wasn’t holed up in his room in May’s apartment, the space far too tiny and cramped, reeking of dust balls and burnt food even febreze couldn’t remove from the air- feeling wrong in the place that was his, but didn’t feel like it- he was back to hiding on the rooftops. Refusing to play his role as Spider-Man, still, because that raises the chances for Venom coming back and they couldn't afford that. 

****

But then he realized it was far too unrealistic for him to continue to hide from his responsibilities, that he had to take hold of the reign of his life and lead it into the path he wanted and not the path tony had forged for him. 

****

So, he got to work. Building himself up as he tore the boulders done that others had placed on his shoulders. He didn’t return to school, MIT so far out of the picture that he couldn’t even entertain the idea of being a simple school boy for longer than three seconds before he was shoved back into Titan and reminded that life wasn’t for him. 

****

He had to make a living -even though he had a hefty trust fund tony had set up after he’d died that would more than take care of peter for several life times but he refused to touch the money- pretend he was a functioning adult even if he did spend most of his nights curled up in a ball, eating ice cream from the carton he’d snuck into his room after May and Happy went to bed, and watched ridiculously sappy romantic movies on the small, portable holographic screen he’d smuggled from the labs. 

****

Getting a job was easier said than done. It wasn’t that he lacked the qualifications, it was just they lacked the experience and necessities to hold his interest for longer than seconds so he’d move on to the next and find that still, nothing was of interest to him. The sandwich shop couldn’t offer him a brain twister, and neither could being a cash register at his local grocery store. 

****

Not to mention the hoards of people that came with the flicker of him in public. He couldn’t walk down the street without being mobbed, group photos and selfies requested, signatures even if he wrote sloppy, and once he’d even been asked to make a video of himself eating a hot dog so the man could prove to his wife that his food cart  _ wasn’t  _ a bust— but a voice in his head that was awfully guilty on sounding like Pepper, reminded him sponsoring or promoting an establishment, no matter how small, without revenue was a big no no. 

****

He gave up on going out in public on day three, sadly. Or at least as a civilian. 

****

Without his suit, he was back to just wearing whatever clothes he could scrounge from his closet that he’d have no problem ruining if necessary. Without the risk of his identity being discovered, now, meant no mask was needed yet that proved to be a big fucking mistake when his first actual night out where he’d kept his head up high and alert, his eyes dried out seconds in and he got winded by the sudden rush of air blowing in his face. 

****

He’d been too spoiled. Gotten used to a mask and now he had to deal with the actual life of those who weren’t as fortunate. 

****

Tony’s voice was unkind in his ears then.  _ Great job, Idiot. At this point, the onesie would be better.  _

****

But he didn’t need  _ tony.  _ A painfully untrue fact that wasn’t easily ignored in the night time, yet he wanted to prove himself strong and independent so he reverted back into his teenage years and  _ did _ wear the ridiculous ski-mask with goggles, though they were amplified to offer him a better performance without the added flashiness his other mask provided. He didn’t have the resources to create better, so he did what he could with what he had. 

****

Swiping a hand down the length of his face, Peter groaned and stood from the hunched sitting position he’d found himself in for the last forty five minutes, assaulted shirt falling to the floor. He'd been contemplating life itself, and Tony. 

****

Always Tony. 

****

He’d woken from yet another night terror, this one fueled by true and recent events as Tony, this time,  _ kicked _ him out of the tower after making a public show to humiliate Peter and his one-sided feelings. It was all some cruel, inside joke and Peter felt like a childish teenager when he woke up gasping in bed, clawing at his chest, trying to remind himself his emotions weren’t broadcast to the entire world, Tony hadn’t done any of that  _ publicly,  _ and that he wasn’t currently living in a high school based tv show. 

****

What he would give to have it all be a dream. 

****

Fixing himself a cup of coffee, figuring the early bird gets the worm as he eyed the clock itching into the early seconds of four in the morning, he folded his legs beneath him on the couch, nursed his warm cup of creamer and sugar with tiny splash of coffee in it, and swiped through the news on his phone when the screen suddenly went black and Friday’s voice was filtering through the speakers, loud and clear. 

****

“Peter?” She asked, the sight hitch in her voice as she attempted to whisper amusing him even if he  _ was  _ curious to know how she knew the moment called for low talking. 

****

“Yes?”

****

“The police are requesting back up, and all active duty avengers are currently tied up in a case involving the Chiaturi and their recently discovered location. I tried to inform Mr. Stark, but he was adamant about not wanting to know,” the,  _ he refused to be Ironman,  _ was left unsaid but implied. 

****

This caught Peter’s attention. Perking up, he set his half filled mug on the little coffee table in the middle of their living room. “What is the situation?” 

****

“There seems to be an alien spacecraft touching down near the police department. They’ve evacuated the block, and have requested all available units to proceed with caution to their location. I’ve done a scan, and there’s only three life forms on the ship but they  _ are  _ extraterrestrial and it seems they have a large arreonal of weapons that could potentially wipe buildings off the grid with a single shot if charged enough.” 

****

And  _ okay.  _ Talk about information overload. 

****

“Have they made any contact?” Peter asked, already standing. “Do they know what their intentions are?”

****

“No, sir,” Friday spoke confidently, “so far no contact has been made, and there have been no reported casualties.” 

****

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as his brain began to over power his heart, reminding him that even if he tried taking himself out of the game, the game was never truly done with him and it seemed as if New York was starting an entirely new board. He may not be prepared, mentally or physically, but it seemed like he didn’t have a say in the matter as he was pulling on his shoes and flinging himself out the window. Dressed in black sweatpants and Tony’s AC/DC shirt with his mask forgotten on his desk.

****

~~~~

****

A blue ball of light sliced through his vision, hitting the wall behind him just above his shoulder and the concrete wall exploded, rubble raining down in deadly chunks as suffocating dust filled the air. Peter swung out of the way in time to miss the fall back of the wall, dogging and weaving between broken pillars and dented cars that had been used as weapons. 

****

He already had one of the three guys incapacitated, spidey webbed to the side of the police precaint and it seemed like even their alien asses weren’t strong enough to break the bounds of his webs even if it did try with guttural screams. They were Chitauri, an awfully mean and vicious batch who had obviously even given a bowl of Cheerios with piss in it for breakfast. Peter had tried reasoning with them when he arrived, ignoring all the looks he got from the bystanders and how unprofessional it may seem with him standing before them, trying to talk to the aliens, in his pajamas. But they were all too busy shitting themselves to have cared if Peter was butt ass naked, as long as he took all focus off of them. 

****

“Come on, big guy,” he groaned, shooting a web to catch a light post that groaned in protest as he swung around it and flung himself in the air, momentarily miscalculating his next direction with resulted in him being air bound for a few stuttered seconds with nowhere to go, nothing to latch his web on to, with his arms flailing around wildly before he shot a web at the car suddenly being thrown at him, jerked himself towards it and felt the brush of metal across his back as he soared up and over it and shot a web out at a building just as he was reaching the point of no return. 

****

“Seriously? Can we  _ not _ throw things at people?”

****

A fall from a hundred feet probably wouldn’t be deadly, to him, but a fall from  _ that _ height, pushing at least several stories high,  _ probably _ would do a significant amount of damage and he definitely didn’t want to find out if it was true or not. 

****

He landed with a thud on the side of a building, fingers flexing into the brick to hold him in place as he fixed his gaze on the scene below him. Half of the precaint had been blown to smithereens, ninety percent of the block had missing cars that could be found lodged into the side of the buildings or hidden in the rubble from whatever magnetic gun they had that seemed capable of lifting things of a massive weight and flinging it effortlessly. It flowed with a dull red light, the magnetic pulses barely visible in rippling waves of red but visible enough that he watched as the leader of the group turned it on and aimed it toward a school bus two blocks down that fought the pull. 

****

Shooting a web out, Peter caught the tip of the gun and jerked up, webbing the gun to the ledge of a balcony on the second story of the precaint. 

****

“Not today, bad guy,” he said, flicking an extra cautious webbing over the square barrel of the gun to prevent a repeat of what happened on that ferry all those years ago. 

****

He was tired, out of breath, drained and overall done with this entire thing. His body ached from all the hits he’d failed to dodge, and he was sure the ringing in his ear wasn’t normal. 

****

The sun was just rising, these guys obviously had no plan but to cause a shit ton of destruction, and he was nearly out of web fluid when something hot hit his shoulder and fanned out in sharp jabs of electrical heat. 

****

The scream he let out he was sure wasn’t human. 

****

He glanced down in time to see whatever had hit him, was still embedded in his shoulder. It was a glowing blade of sorts, sharp teeth spiking out to deny him the chance of simply removing it and something hot was pulsing out of the blade; scorching his nerves with this fiery liquid he could feel feeding into his bloodstream and with the added slickness of his blood he felt his fingers lose their grip on the building before his arm went numb entirely and he was falling. 

****

He caught himself with a web from his other hand, gaining enough strength momentarily to pull him towards the barricade of heavily decked out police men with roadblock and yellow tape marking their path. He landed unsteadily, teetering to the left as his vision grew blurry. 

****

They were all shouting at him, waving their arms frantically like they were trying to tell him something but no words came out of their mouths. 

****

Shaking his head, Peter fought the effects of whatever the fuck was happening long enough that he managed to nail the guy who’d threw the knife at him with a web centered in his chest, winding around him in a tight corset with his arms fit snugly against his chest. The third guy was nowhere to be seen, at least to him. 

****

When the second fell, Peter glanced down at the wooden handle still protruding from his body and gritted his teeth in a distraction as he curled his fingers around the end of it and gave a light tug. He immediately let out a sharp cry, tears springing to his eyes as the pain multiplied and spread to the middle of his back. 

****

“I don’t,” he slurred, turning to face the officers with a glazed over look in his eyes with blood a steady stream down his arm, trickling from the tips of his fingers in crimson droplets. “I don’t know where the other one is-“ he  _ started  _ to say, when something hit him from the side and he was sent hurtling into a window, glass shattering around him as he collided with the receptionist desk. 

****

He fell to a heap in a pile of broken glass, back screeching in pain from not only the force of the collision but the glass he could feel grinding across his nerves and muscles. Fluttering eyes managed to catch sight of the last Chitauri walking to the window, unfazed even with a hundred different guns trained on his body. 

****

He grinned; crouching.

****

Peter wasn’t sure how he did it, or what was left in him to endure much more, but he stood and wiped the blood now cascading from his mouth from a gnarly gash, and lifted his good arm in a fighting stance as he prepared for another blow, only for a streak of red and gold to whiz past the window and snatch up the alien the second he lunged for peter through the broken glass. 

****

Relief flooded his body, replacing the adrenaline because he knew how he was  _ okay.  _ He was  _ safe.  _

****

Stumbling, Peter clambered over the ledge of the window seal and fell into his knees on the sidewalk as he watched the familiar suit fly a couple feet in the air, a powered up repulsor focused on a heap of what was now three bodies strewn out on the ground with Stark Industry made handcuffs glowing light blue around their wrist. 

****

Peter didn’t say much,  _ couldn’t,  _ because the world was suddenly growing black and the last thing he remembered seeing was Tony flying towards him, face plate lifted but he couldn’t make out his face because his vision was too blurry, and he mumbled something like, “Tony, you came,” 

****

Before he gave into the darkness and fell into a nothingness. 

****

Hating more than anything that  _ his _ shirt had been ruined. 

****

~~~

****

The first thing Peter became aware of, was not the constant beeping of his heart monitor, or the painful tugging of an Iv in his arm, but the realization of what it meant to see Tony in his iron man suit. Last he remembered, Tony was refusing to put it on. Claimed that wasn’t him anymore, that he couldn’t be iron man when he wasn’t even Tony and that the day he put on the suit would be the day hell froze over. 

****

Peter guesses Tony’s “hell freezing over” wasn’t supposed to be the equivalent of Peter getting hurt after he, yet again, misjudged a situation and went in and webs a blazing with no back up and without proper equipment. 

****

Yet the sharp jabbing sensations in his shoulder when he flinched in a tiny movement, let him not it was all real, and Tony  _ did _ come. He didn’t just send an empty suit. 

****

Rolling his tongue around in his dry mouth, Peter gave a testing smack of his lips to gauge the cut but when he didn’t feel even a flinch of pain, he decided that injury was done and over with. Inhaling the overly sterile scent of a recovery room, Peter kept that scent in his lungs as his eyes flickered open and he squinted beyond the harsh glare of white lights to focus on the motionless hump propped at the end of his enormous bed, sitting in the chair with the upper half of their body laid across his bed. It looked uncomfortable. 

****

“Hey,” he whispered, sticking a toe out of his blanket to nudge the familiar persons shoulder, “wake up. I need to know what happened,” 

****

At the sound of his voice, Nat jerked into a sitting position, blinked several times at him before she was catapulting herself into his arms. He hissed at the contact of her shoulder against his, at the stretch as he lifted his arms to recuperate the gesture, but noted it wasn’t as strong nor blinding as it had been before. Just a minor discomfort now. 

****

“You ever do that again to me, and I’ll use your damn science Mumbo jumbo shit so I can resurrect you,  _ then  _ kill you with my own two hands!” She said, a mixture of relief and anger pouring out of her in a flood as she tightened her hold around his neck. “I was so worried, Peter. When I watched the news, you looked— I thought you were dying.” 

****

He felt like it. 

****

“Calm down,” he whispered, fingers brushing down her back in an air of calmness to try and get her to adopt the same feeling, “I’m here. I wasn’t dying. Just got banged up a little,” 

****

“Or a  _ lot,”  _ She corrected him, pulling back so he could see the red rimming around her tired eyes.  _ How long has he been out for?  _ “You were not only  _ stabbed,  _ but poisoned with some fucking out of space bullshit that even your spidey healing was having a hard time burning through. And you were thrown through a  _ window.  _ They had to dig glass shards out of so many lacerations on her back without any sedatives because they didn’t know how it would react to the foreign substance,” 

****

That explained the lack of fuzziness in his head, and the light throb of pain that was only ever apparent when he acknowledged it. 

****

“But look,” he continued, adamant as he held up his arms for her to see, “I’m here now, and I’m okay.” 

****

She eyed him warily for a few seconds, like she didn’t trust he wasn’t just going to dissolve into a pile of liquid before he her very eyes, before she gave a stiff nod and sat back down in her seat.

****

“How long was I out for?”

****

“A little over thirty seven hours,” she said, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall. “The stuff that was in that blade, was fucking with your healing abilities and it wasn’t until hour twelve, when they worked it out of your system, that you began to heal at your normal rate,”

****

He nodded, digesting the information as he gave a prodding poke to his shoulder. It was tender, but in a way fresh scar tissue was. “Thank you for being here for me. So I wasn’t alone,” he finally said, not voicing how he wished it was someone else he was waking up to, but also making it clear he wasn’t disappointed with his alternative option. 

****

Not seemed to get the idea.

****

“He hasn’t left your bed side,” she suddenly admitted, refusing to meet his eye as she spoke. “Pepper came over a few hours ago and finally made him leave to shower and eat, but I don’t think he’ll be away for much longer.”

****

The  _ he _ in question was easy for Peter to decipher. 

****

“ _ Oookay,”  _ Peter said, dragging out the ‘o’ as he tried to decide what to do with this little tidbit of information. Did it even mean anything? Did the hope unfurling in his chest even have a right to be homed there? 

****

Rather than answering that question, he instead chose to focus on something else that didn’t have the potential to hurt him with the answers. “What about the Chiaturi that attacked? Did they even have a plan, because it seemed like they were just running me around in circles,” 

****

Nat cringed at that. “They were,” she said with a wince. “Us, too.” Then, in an added explanation per Peter’s prying gaze, “Fury came to us with a case a few months back involving the Chitauri and an underground operation they were running. We’ve been following it closely for a while, but it seems like every lead we get ends up at a dead end until finally, yesterday, we got a solid lead. Thor and the rest of us, who are still active duty -meaning not Tony or Peter- flew to Michigan, where there was a large blip on Shields radar.” 

****

She took a large breath before continuing, lost in the memories as she leaned forward in her chair. “Only when we got there, it was a handful of their most mediocre men who we had neutralized within minutes. We all thought that we were wasting our time when Friday informed us that one of our own were injured during duty, and it quickly became evident that we all were used as decoys in their plans. Their men were sent to act as distractions to keep us busy while they gathered up their next round of kids in Pennsylvania.” 

****

“Kids for what?” 

****

Nat’s lip curled in undisguised disgust. “An intergalactic human trafficking trade. At first, the rise in missing children wasn’t too worrisome because they were smart and took from places where they had an overabundance of unwanted children. Then they started to become greedy, and that's when Shield caught on. They’ve slowly worked their way across the map, and now they’re focusing on our general area. Fury’s certain their next plan of attack will be within the next few months, and it will focus on New York.” 

****

Peter was struck with a sudden bout of exhaustion and he couldn’t fight to keep his eyes open, even with his mind racing at all this new information. What were they going to do to stop them? How many children had been taken, and how could fury be certain they were going to focus on New York next? 

****

But nothing made it out of his mouth and Nat didn’t seem to mind, because his blanket was being pulled up to his chin and tucked around his body before soft lips pressed to his temple. “Get some rest, kid. The world's disasters aren’t going anywhere,” 

****

~~~

****

When Peter woke up next, it was to a completely stiff body that was begging to be put to use and stretched, with a light, unfamiliar weight draped across his legs. When he opened his eyes, he was alone, the lights in the room dimmed and the darkness filtering through his window signaling it was late into the night or early in the morning as he reached for the black square resting on his thighs. 

****

A scan around the room confirmed he was alone. 

****

Upon unfolding it, he found it was yet another one of Tony’s AC/DC shirts, though this one was written in read rather than white. 

****

And he knew it was a silly shirt, that Tony had done literally nothing more than offer him an article of his own clothing, but it was still  _ something.  _

****

A little more than nothing, but not enough to justify the sudden and rapid thud of Peter’s heart as it called out for Tony. 

****

~~~~

****

The agents of shield lined the hallways of stark towers, creating a barricade of immovable flesh that entirely consisted of fused arms and bowed heads. The director was the target they were protecting, Fury standing high and bold behind his trained men, acting as if he was untouchable as he pushed through the glass doors. He wanted to talk to Peter, wanted to have a one on one sit down with his own little truth serum cocktail staining his lips. 

****

Just a reassurance that he was as confident in his work on Tony as he claimed to be. That the intricate codes and weaved together nerves and skin weren’t going to, one day, rebel and take over the world. He wanted to assure that Peter didn’t just fuck up the future by creating something invincible. 

****

Peter declined the meeting originally, per Nat’s insistent instructions with his current medical situation calling for pause on anything physical or potentially upsetting. But Fury took that as an invitation to the Towers, arriving with little more than a call from the lobby to prepare them all for his arrival on the recovery floor seconds later and there they sat, with Fury at the end of Peters bed as the younger of the two twitched uncomfortably under the prying eye. 

****

“I’m not going to commend you for your heroic display of stupidity by taking those three on by yourself, but congratulations on not dying,” Fury began the second they were alone, the shield agents escorting a very unhappy Nat from the room who had hissed her intentions of informing Tony of his presence and intentions before the door slammed shut. -Peter hopes she was kidding- “though I really have Tony to congratulate for that, don’t I? After making a big show of refusing his title and claiming he wasn’t ready to resume his position in the Avengers, he went behind our backs and saved you.” He gave a wry smile. 

****

“What makes you so  _ special?” _ He asked, last word enunciated as he jabbed the needle into the small glass vial and began to draw the correct dosage for Peter. 

****

Peter swallowed thickly, forcing down the lump of nerves that began to strangle him, and shook off the sudden blanket of fear before he straightened his spine, acting as if he wasn’t directly being called out for his hold over Tony even if the actual man refused to acknowledge said hold. “Nothing, sir,” he said firmly, licking over his dry lips. “Tony would have done it for any of the avengers, really,” 

****

_ Not true, _ Peters brain barked, and the look Fury gave him said the same thing. 

****

_ Fuck. _

****

Giving a testing flick to the needle now full of the clear liquid, he grinned and held out a hand in silent commanding for Peter’s arm. The boy complied with hesitant movements, giving him the arm without the iv, watching as the needle automatically disappeared in his flesh and the warm liquid was dispersed into his body with one slow push. 

****

“Tell me, Peter, do you truly believe Tony cares for you on the same level as he does the other avengers?”

****

“No,” and okay, that wasn’t hard to admit. Perhaps the dosage given was incorrect considering his metabolism? “I believe Tony cares for each of us differently, but equally. Perhaps he favors Rhodey more, but that’s to be expected with their history,” 

****

And  _ fuck.  _ That came rushing out of him like lava from an erupting volcano. He needed to change the direction of this conversation  _ quick  _ before something he said outed him in ways he never hoped to be outed. 

****

“Do you care for Tony?” Fury pressed, seemingly aware he was pressing a button with an exposed wire. 

****

“I don’t believe that is relevant to your presence here today,” Peter shot right back, the sudden blaring of his heart monitor making him jump as he watched the numbers climb rapidly, reaching 160 as he fought off the urge to spill everything that came with that name; an admission that would surely crush him if another person were to become aware of how truly pathetic he was. 

****

Fury relented then, hands raised in mock surrender as he sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his stomach with a silent nod. “Perhaps not, but one can have fun, can they not?” He shot a toothy grin in Peter’s direction that made him on edge and uncomfortable.

****

“The questions,  _ sir,” _ Peter reminded him with a bite in his words, impatient and annoyed. 

****

“Are you as confident in your work with Tony Stark, involving the design of his body and overall current status as an Artificial intelligence given the direct linkage and memories to one of the smartest and most influential men in this world?” He said, “are you confident that tomorrow if, say, Pepper Potts dies, Tony will not go on a bender and use his newfound body and strength to his advantage and commit a worldwide genocide?” 

****

“Do you honestly believe Tony is capable of that?” Peter as, perplexed by the question even if he understood the need to ask for answers, “Forget what he is made of, and remember he is  _ Tony.  _ He is everything that that man was, and more. Regardless of his current body, he will not suddenly adopt a new personality or seek worldwide revenge when it comes to a loss in his life.” 

****

“He did with you,” Fury countered, eye hard. “He tore the fragile ends of the world apart in search for a way to bring you back. What’s stopping him now? He has eternity now to use earth as his play toy. What’s stopping him from building a hundred more like him?” 

****

Peters heart stalled at the reminder of exactly what Tony had done, and what he’d been willing to do, in his absence. A morbid part of him wished he could witness that, meet that Tony for just a second to see that he really  _ did _ care. 

****

“I’m the only one aware of the exact science used to create him,”

****

“Tony helped you, however, didn’t he? It would be easy for him to mirror the same process you used to bring him back, only he is smart enough to modify your research and discoveries and make the machine not only as invincible as himself, but incapable of  _ bleeding _ .”

****

“He isn’t invincible,” He argued, “I gave him an Achilles heel. He can die. Just because you aren’t aware of his weak point, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’m not as naive as people believe, as wreckless as the image I’ve created seems to boost. Creating a living, breathing, invincible superhuman who was immortal, with Tony Stark’s dna or not, would have been entirely stupid and with all due respect, sir, I lack said stupidity. Not that you seem entirely convinced because it seems your entire purpose here today is to remind me I am stupid, and that said lack in knowledge led to me breeding a rare life form capable of pretty much  _ anything _ when that is entirely incorrect.”

****

Then, in an added breath as all the air in his lungs deflated, “Tony wouldn’t do that,” 

****

He’d been incredibly fucking naive to believe Fury wasn’t aware of his metabolism. He could feel the truth serum working through his veins, clinging to his blood vessels and vibrating them with this unquenchable need to say  _ everything  _ that popped into his mind. His brain to mouth filter was broken, rocking off the hinges as his brain began to rapid fire answers and questions, matching the fast pace of his heart that only increased when he refused to speak the truth. 

****

“The longer I am in your presence, Parker, the more I begin to question your place at the Avengers table,” Fury said, taken aback by the out burst but easily rolling along with the punches and ignoring the entire fucking elephant still sitting on Peter’s tongue. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that, but your too guileless. Inexperienced in all the areas the Avengers-“ 

****

“What makes you say that? My refusal to bow down to you and cower in fear because of the ridiculously pungent air of authority you have hanging around you, or because my very existence questions everything you don’t want to acknowledge? I am smart, and I  _ am  _ experienced. I spent  _ years _ trapped in a hell not even you could imagine, yet I came out with little more than  _ scratch. _ Can you say the same, sir? Can you say that you put aside your own personal problems and aided in helping take down a monster drunk on power, after having spent decades trapped beneath his thumb? Because I did. And I did it without hesitation. I fought  _ my _ battles while fighting for this world, and I don’t  _ ever  _ want to hear you question my position when I have more than earned my spot at that table.”

****

He was breathing harshly through his nose, the rapid rise and fall of his chest matching the jittery spazzing of his heart as he fought to get it back under control. Tears were threatening to prick his eyes, the familiar burn a pressure in his skull he was trying so hard to hold back. 

****

“Tony Stark isn’t a danger to this world,” he continued, voice shaking, “and I am  _ not _ the monster you think I am. I choose to see the good in people, whereas all you ever pick out is the bad. I get that. The fear. But place it where it is due, where it is needed. Do  _ not _ pin it on a man who is the strongest thing you have going for you. The world fell in Tony’s absence, now step back and watch it  _ thrive  _ in his return.”

****

“Personal experience aside, Parker, you can not deny how incredibly stupid it was to immortalize the merchant of death. With or without a kill button, he is still capable of far more than your blind eyes are willing to see and when he kills all those innocent souls, remember the blood will be on  _ your _ hands.” 

****

“Why not stop him now, then? Why not imprison, if not kill, Tony? You have the resources, all the basic necessities to hold him. Why not take him down while you can?” 

****

All of these thoughts, crossed Peters mind while he’d been building Tony. He’d played out the scenarios of Tony going rogue and killing people, but not one set right with him. They’d been forged out of fear and while the weapon still swung, the weight wasn’t evenly distributed and they always fell flat in the end. Tony was  _ Tony  _ and while the man was capable of anything, would do  _ anything,  _ Peter was certain killing another human wasn’t at the top of that list. Even if he was hurting. 

****

Something in the twitch of Fury’s jaw caught Peter’s eye, the way it clenched as his teeth grinding became audible and Peter grinned. “You want to, don’t you? But you can’t. Tony has done nothing  _ wrong.  _ He doesn’t pose a threat to the world, even with the technology used to design him being relatively new and in its early stages. I always forget you have someone to answer to. Your superiority complex must really clash with the idea of being bossed around.” 

****

Fury’s lip curled up in a growl that had been cut off by the door swinging open, the tension in the room intensifying when a pissed off Tony Stark stalked in with shield agents shuffling sheepishly behind him with their hands on their holsters sat positioned at their hips. 

****

Nat hasn’t been bluffing.

****

“You have all but three seconds to get  _ out _ before I kindly drag your ass over to those balcony doors and give you the express flight down.” Tony growled, leaving absolutely no room for questioning in his threat with malice dripping from his words as he pinned Fury with his murderous glare. “I mean it.” 

****

“Nice on you to join the party,” Fury said calmly, but the quick scramble to his feet displayed anything but calmness as he approached Tony with caution he disguised with a quick survey over the other man. “Gotta admit, young Parker knows what he’s doing when you’re concerned. Almost had me convinced that you're not the  _ actual _ Tony Stark.” 

****

“Yeah, yeah, gloat about my identity dysmorphia and lack of personal recognition when I look in the mirror on your  _ way _ down. Any and all comments from you or your peanut gallery are hereby banned and will be tossed aside for no later evaluation. I would hurry, however, three seconds ticks by awfully fast when you’re falling face first to the concrete,” 

****

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said and  _ this _ time he called the man by that name for the fear that if he said his actual name, while drugged on this ridiculous serum, the man wouldn’t  _ like _ it. That all the truths he’s kept protected and hidden would seep into the way he said the four lettered word and would sweep away all of what remained of his dignity. “Don’t, he isn’t worth it. This is exactly what he wants. A reason.” 

****

Dark eyes focused on him, the tick of Tony’s jaw visible in the jumping muscle of his cheek. “You count as the peanut gallery, kid. This is the time that  _ I  _ speak and everyone listens, alright?” 

****

Nobody said anything to follow that bark. 

****

“If you or  _ Shield _ or anyone else of importance, has a question about  _ me _ , you come to  _ me. _ Do not drug one of my team members, and question them about me or  _ anything _ related to me unless you do personally want an iron man foot shoved up your ass, shield badge or not. He isn’t judgemental or picky.” He flashed a grin that was predatory, the snap of his jaws in a temptation fueled fantasy causing Peter’s heart rate to spike again. 

****

That  _ did _ things to his body he didn’t like. Or maybe he did, and he was just pretending. His heart surely made the latter impossible. 

****

“Think of yourself as untouchable as long as you’d like, Tony, but the clock is still counting down,” Fury said in gloating manner as he tapped the black leathered watch around his wrist, “you have a week left to decide  if this is all you want, if he is even going to be considered your  _ team member _ .” 

****

Wait, what? Peter wasn’t aware that Tony had been given a deadline on when he was to return to active duty and if he had been, was Peter going to get one too? He may play house as Spider-Man and swing around from time to time, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the action fueled days that we’re sure to follow with him putting back in a mask not made in his tiny bedroom. 

****

“Think I’ve already given my answer, if last night counts for anything.” 

****

“Don’t get too cocky there, son. You put the suit on once. Your little spider-boy won’t always be in trouble and in need of your help,”

****

And with that, he was turning and leaving, a cloud of snide smugness seeping into the air around him and Peter gagged on his own heart as it lunges into his throat and spasmed. Everyone seemed to be fucking aware of Tony’s feelings for him but Tony himself. 

****

“What?” Tony snapped, turning to him and clearly in a riled up mood and ready to fight anything that crossed his path. “You want some of this too? Hmm? Next time you think about going on a mission solo, how about you pick up a phone and call me? You can be a hero without being reckless.”

****

Peter opened his mouth to snark back, but remembered his current predicament and quickly slammed it shut. He couldn’t get too reckless, now. Things often slipped out in the heat of the moment and he wasn’t about to argue with Tony Stark while he was being egged on with truth serum. 

****

“You’re right,” he said instead, head bowed to study the threading on his sheets. “I need to stop- I can’t be stupid anymore. Fury has already decided that is to be branded as my name, so I have to prove him wrong and running head on into danger won’t do that, will it?” He said, smile tremulous. 

****

“No, you don’t get to do that,” Tony grumbled, finger waving in Peter’s direction. “I get to yell at you and feel  _ good _ about it because you fucking terrified me and I-“ he suddenly cut off, eyes widening when they caught sight of the shirt Peter wore. Same old wardrobe, just different colors. He gulped. “I thought I lost you,  _ again,  _ kid. I was- I was  _ scared.”  _

****

And was it the shirt that made him speak with such a naked and bare honesty, or was it the realization that Peter very well could have been taken away, only permanently this time? He let Nat believe he could be brought back in the same way Tony had been, but that was false. The science behind that died with him, and he hasn’t allowed Friday a chance to record his brain like she’d done Tony’s. He didn’t- when he  _ died,  _ he wanted it to be permanent. No sense in living in this hell for longer than was necessary. 

****

Whatever it was, Peter  _ preened _ at the admittance and peeked at Tony from beneath fluttering eyelashes to catch sight of how completely broken the man before him looked. He loved the look, because he  _ knew _ he caused it. Whatever Tony may say, whatever he may believe, Peter held the key to his heart and the kid knew it. 

****

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he tested, pushing him a little further just to see how far he could actually take Tony before the man broke. 

****

“I never once said I didn’t care,” Tony growled, and his words held heat but lacked malice; lacked anything and everything he spoke to Fury with. 

****

“You let me walk away,” Peter said, voice small, body encouraged with the serum that was now just a faint tickle in his throat. “every single time I think you’ll stop me, you let me walk away.”

****

Except for that one time, which ended in sex. Which peter was trying  _ really _ hard not to remember. 

****

Tony’s eyes shuttered at that, the lag in his brain obvious as he stumbled an inch forward and caught himself with a hand on the back of the chair. He inhaled sharply. “That’s not fair,” he shook his head. “That is not fair at all, Peter. You wouldn’t let me  _ talk.  _ You immediately labeled me as the bad guy because I was trying to ask for  _ time.  _ That’s it. That day in the gym, I was trying to ask you to be patient with me but you took everything I said wrong and I couldn’t stop myself from  _ not _ denying it. I figured it would make it easier on you if I let you end things, if you had the last word. I didn’t— I didn’t think, okay?”

****

“You said you couldn’t drag me along because it would be selfish. Because we were unhealthy together.” 

****

“We are,” Tony conceded with a quick nod. “I am not denying that. We both have problems we bury instead of dealing with, and our line of work doesn’t exactly make any relationship easy. I’ll smother you, and over worry, and be paranoid beyond belief because I won’t be able to  _ help _ myself, Peter. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through and I don’t think I could do it again. It’s a real shit thing, realizing all you could lose cooped up in one reckless body but I can’t… I’m in, Peter I am all in.”

****

Oh. 

****

Peter gave in and lifted his head, finding Tony’s eyes within seconds and unfolding the layers hidden in the iris; the sincerity, the depth of his caring. Tony Stark was looking at him with a look that screams  _ love _ and fear. He was afraid of his love for the kid. It was an entirely unexpected look and it knocked Peter breathless. 

****

“You hurt me, Tony,” Peter said, refusing to give in so easily now that he knew what the pain and sting of rejection felt like; how much true heartbreak could hurt when hitting the right nails into a tattered heart. “I gave everything I was to you, and you turned me away. You made me feel disgusting and worthless when I laid in that bed next to you, aware of your presence but unable to touch you for the fear of you running away. You darkened the best night of my life with a fear I’ve tried out running for years and made everything I’ve ever been told, come true. I know I’m not good enough for you, okay? I-I know it’s silly to think you would ever want me to the extent that I want you, but you made it easy to pretend. You played the part so well.”

****

“Enough,” Tony snapped, fingers gripping Peter’s chin as he tipped his head back and Peter gaped up at him, having not even been aware of him standing next to his bed yet here he stood, crowding his space. “I fucked up kid, I know that, but don’t  _ ever _ take the blame for my mistakes. I was scared and I’ve never been one to face my fears. Losing you on my terms was a lot better than losing you when you realized I am not who you want. I’m an old man that is scared beyond belief, Peter. You are the one who deserves so much more. You’re better than I could ever be.”

****

“I’ll never be enough,” Peter argued, which earned him yet another growl that he felt vibrate across his chin where Tony held his chin. Peter held Tony’s gaze. “You often let your own personal critique cloud the actual image of the man that you are. Do you have any idea what you have done? You’ve saved the universe, time and time again. You conquered the world's deadliest threat, and saved billions of lost souls. Forget about your idea of  _ more,  _ and remember that I am a man who will never settle for anything less than perfect. Because you are, Tony. You’re so perfect that it  _ hurts  _ me sometimes. Because I know-“

****

But he was cut off in the most delightfully delicious ways one could possibly shut him up, as firm lips pressed against his in a desperate clash of teeth and skin. Lasting no more than second before Tony pulled back to gauge his reaction as he heaved through his nose. 

****

“Don’t finish that,” he pleaded, eyes rounded in a way Peter has never seen them, “please. Don’t.” 

****

_ Fine.  _

****

“I need to know if you’re in this completely Tony , and if you are, then how deep?” He changed the subject, really not wanting to let Tony know how much power and control he had over Peter, how a simple plea silenced the war raging inside of him and called the leader off his pedestal and made him, too, dizzy from a kiss he would never experience. 

****

“I’m asking you this because I need you to understand something, Tony… When I say that I’m all in, I mean it. This isn’t some crush for me, or hero worship. This is real, and if you can’t handle it, I need to know. I need to know before I- before I continue to offer myself to you on a silver platter only for you to decide i'm not the main course you desire. Before I allow you to see, as Thanos once did, how weak your arms make me and how a simple touch could undo twenty four years of his hard work.”

****

He cut off abruptly with a shutter, eyes squeezing shut as he fought the proding voices rising to the surface in sharp jabs, voices that had no place on this planet, in his mind. Voices created in fantasy, whose words held no more power over him. 

****

Fighting off the cringe at how cheesy and ridiculous he sounded, he braved a glance at the man’s face and found he looked… lost. Skeptical, almost, of his words.

****

“I make you weak?” he finally asked, voice low and clenched with an emotion Peter couldn’t place.

****

He hesitated before giving a single nod, lip caught between his teeth as his fingers tugged at a loose string on his blanket that hadn’t been loose seconds ago. “I thought it was obvious?” he said, “I’ve never been a good actor, and your death--”

****

He didn’t need to finish the sentence, because Tony understood. He understood. “Yours broke me too, kid. In more ways than I'm comfortable admitting.” As if they’ve not already been over this. 

****

Tony was emotionally constipated, that wasn’t a secret either, but Peter was starting to believe he wasn’t exactly a picture perfect example of someone who dealt with emotional disasters all too well, either. Venom was a prime example of that.

****

“So you understand that I need you to give me your all? No more hiding?”

****

“I can’t promise I won’t ever do it again,” Tony said, “Shutting down, I mean. I can’t promise I won’t lock myself in the lab for days at a time, that I won’t smother you and refuse to allow you to leave certain places because of an irrational fear, but I can promise I’m not- I’m not going anywhere. I meant it, Pete. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

****

“Forever,” Peter said without missing a beat, “I want you forever,”

****

And he didn’t have to look to know Tony was smiling so wide the crinkles by his eyes were making an appearance. “Then you can have me forever, kid.”

****

And if it was possible for a voice to have crows feet, he was positive it would sound exactly like Tony did at this exact moment.

****  
  



	3. For too long, he’s been too far from home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a note, Archive deleted it while also adding obnoxious spacing between each paragraph and no matter how many times I correct it, it doesn't stick- so SUFFER.
> 
> I'm just kidding, but I am sorry. For the absence and the spacing. XD A broken laptop led to my extending leave of absence. Well, that paired with the companies incompetence to send out a replacement laptop until over a month later but all is good! I am back, and plan on posting much more frequently! No more droughts!
> 
> Also, notice the updated tags? ;)
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy this lame ass note. The original was litty, but archive is a bitch sometimes. No hate. 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> xx

The sun was just grazing the water with electric sparkles of golden lights when Tony heard it, the soft rasp of knuckles across his door, unsure and hesitant but still somehow audible over the low whirring of the hand held saw he was holding, powered up and currently cutting through what looked to be a partial arm plate that belonged to his suit—  _ the  _ iron man suit. Not his anymore, at least not in the sense that he felt worthy enough.

****

He stood with a groan, figuring it was Rhodey or Steve coming to nag him into going to bed because they somehow knew it had been three days since he’d gotten a good nights sleep, or any sleep for that matter. But when he opened the door, smart glasses meant to act as protective glasses to keep sparks and metal shards from blinding him, hugging the low bridge of his nose as he peered over the orange tint, it was neither cap nor Rhodey.

****

He came face to face with Peter.

****

He fought the smile that immediately pulled at his lips— he really did. “Pete?” He asked softly, surprised by the visit but not entirely displeased despite the time, “what’re you doing up? It’s nearly six a.m.”

****

The kid stood before him disheveled, hair a chaotic mess of curls that stood in each and every direction, a red line marking the curve of his cheek from the imprint of his pillow, with exhaustion clinging to his eyes and creeping into the deflation of his shoulders.

****

Despite all of that, you’d never guess he was close to death only a week ago. 

****

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, lip slipping between his teeth which Tony unknowingly tracked before he moved his eyes to study the pillow Peter had hooked beneath his arm. “I-I know I’m not supposed to be in here, or sleep with you, b-but…” and he was  _ stuttering. _

****

Tony  _ definitely  _ didn’t find that oddly adorable and endearing.

****

Peter sighed and shifted his weight. “Look, I know you haven’t slept either,” a vague, yet telling, gesture over Tony’s body, “so can't we just be cautious and sleep together… as in, in the same bed?”

****

Part of their little arrangement was that, yes, they would come out to the rest of the team soon, but for now, it was all kept under lock and key. Until the dust had a chance to settle and everyone was given the opportunity to catch their breath.

****

Even if it meant sneaking around like god damn teenagers.  _ Which,  _ Tony’s brain added with a tinge of disgust,  _ one of us  _ were  _ a teenager not too long ago. _

****

They weren’t even sure what they had, what their title was meant to be. It’s been a little more than five days since they mutually agreed to give it a go, neither commenting on how the other still refused to move past obvious problems in their lives that were creating roadblocks but somehow, when they were together, nothing mattered. Tony felt chained down to the earth, but with Peter, he felt so fucking free and he decided in that second he didn’t give a shit what anyone said; didn’t care of their opinions. If peter wanted to sleep here, then god damn it, he was going to. 

****

Without saying anything, Tony stepped back and opened the door a little wider, gesturing towards the open room; silently granting him permission to enter his lair that so little had the opportunity to step foot in. Obviously not aware that as Peter’s eye skated over the piles of abandoned projects: metal and glass beakers and books scattered over every available surface with good old fashioned paper blueprints for the latest update to the quinjet rolled across the living room table with an empty scotch glass resting on each side of the curling paper to keep them open and on display-- they were taking in a familiar scene and not searching an unfamiliar room. He was admiring something he’d already allowed himself to mesmerize, but Tony wasn’t necessarily aware of that and didn’t see a need to comment on how Peter removed his shirt with little hesitation and crawled up on the bed without skipping a beat.

****

His shorts constricting around his thighs and hugging the round curve of his ass as he kneed over the comforter and, somehow, knew exactly which side to curl up on.

****

Tony raised an eyebrow, amused. “Make yourself at home, kid,” he teased, “I have a few more things to wrap up then I'll join you…” he suddenly trailed off, scratching at the prickly stubble along his cheek that was a reminder he’d gone days without shaving, and shifted his weight onto his opposing foot. “That is-- if you don’t mind it. I can sleep on the couch, actually-- no, yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ll take the couch.”

****

“Tony,” Peter said with a groan teetering on a fond annoyance as he lifted his head from the pillow and eyed the man. “We’ve had sex. Multiple times. Will you quit acting like you’re some pedophile and  _ sleep _ with me tonight?”

****

Tony nodded, not looking at Peter but feeling the faint ruffle of arousal in his stomach, striking into his groin with a flurry of heat he brushed off in favor of picking back up the saw. “I’ll try to keep it down,” he said, moving to silently clean off his work station before he sat down at his desk and began to fill out the paperwork that had grown to tremendous heights in just a day. Pepper always insisted he do it right away, but he knew that if he did, he would never have a social life. 

****

He got lost in the task of allowing his eyes to skate over jumbled words before he mindlessly signed off on the dotted line and in all honesty, he could be signing off on the very assasination of the president. He didn't know, and he wasn’t sure he if he could bring himself to care. He was too distracted by the soft breathing behind him, the rise and fall of his chest matching the pattern he imagined imprinting his mattress and before he knew it, his head was coming down and slamming hard into the middle of his desk, awakening him with a startle as he looked around in a frantic scan to make sure he was alone, idiot, and scrubbed at his face. 

****

Even he knew when it was time to call it a night. 

****

He staggered over to the bed, not bothering to strip from his clothes even if his jeans did dig roughly into his lower stomach, and collapsed on top of the covers with his face buried in the crook of his arm and he didn’t have any time to think before he was pulled into the darkness and shoved into a warm, fuzzy corner of his mind. 

****

A corner filled with nothing but Peter. 

****

~~~ 

****

Turns out, and if someone were to have told Tony this he honestly never would have thought it a surprise or argued with the validity of their statement because he’s always been a  _ huge  _ Peter fan, he slept  _ incredibly _ well with Peter next to him; curled around his body like a vine around a wired fence and more often than not, the feeling of being suffocated melted away and he was left feeling  _ wanted.  _ Whole. Held together by the most important, and strong, fingers in the world. 

****

An insomnia filled schedule disappeared and in its place, were nights where he got a minimum six hours and woke up feeling well rested and like he could take on the entire world  _ again.  _ Before, he always thought of sleeping as an inconvenience, a true waste of someone’s time and he obviously had better things to do than sleep his life away. He’d usually crash after a week or so and get a few hours of restless shut eye before he was back at it, ignoring his exhaustion like the plague. 

****

But he’d never felt more fresh than he did that first morning when he’d rolled out of bed with Peter panting behind him, thoroughly sexed out in a blissed out daze. He also decided morning sex was possibly his most favorite thing with the kid, too. 

****

Lazy and slow, the smooth roll of his hips communicating no urgency as he took his time, fed Peter the entirety of his girth inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed and his arms were quivering in their places on either side of Peter’s shoulders. 

****

Yes. There were definitely worse ways to wake up. 

****

Rechecking his phone for the call he was supposed to receive from Fury  _ days  _ ago, though he wasn’t going to call the man and remind him of the deadline Tony hadn’t met intentionally just to fluff his feathers, Tony sighed and sunk down in the spinning chair that hissed out a leakage of air and jerked to the right in a half circle before he came to a stop with his eyes resting on Peter. 

****

The kid was fidgeting as he worked on whatever the fuck it was that he worked on, leg jerking in time to the light tapping of his fingers across the desk and usually Tony ignored it, but with a lack of anything interesting around him, it was  _ really _ grinding in his nerves. “Would you cut it out, kid, and spill whatever the fuck is on your mind?” 

****

Peter jerked at his voice, dropping a stylus he’d been using to furiously tap away at the screen of his iPad and he spun around to face tony, the movement ceasing any and all of his tics. “Stop what?” He asked, followed by a cringe as he looked guiltily down at his leg. “Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about Fury,” 

****

Tony froze, spine going rigid. “About what?” He pressed in a clipped tone, “I’ve already told you, anything he said isn’t valid. So why-“ 

****

“Not about that. About me. I’ve been considering officially reinstating myself as Spider-Man, but after his last visit, he’s made it painfully clear that isn’t what he wants nor does he even want me as a potential member of the team.” 

****

“And?” Tony asked with an arched brow, “if you want to run around playing dress up and helping little old women cross the street and Fury finds a problem with that, then I will  _ personally _ pay him a visit.” 

****

Tony wasn’t that much of a team player. He preferred to go at things solo, and be as independent as he could but that didn’t mean he didn’t know when to take a step back and bow down to the higher power and play nice. His team was a valid representation of that. But Shield was an entirely different thing. Authority figures were an  _ entirely _ different thing. He didn’t follow them, didn’t listen to their rules, and he certainly didn’t give a shit about what some bald guy running around with an eye patch thought, said, or did. 

****

So he didn’t understand Peter’s hesitation. 

****

“Listen, kid, if you’re ready to take on the role of New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, then go for it. Don’t let me, or Fury, or anybody else ever tell you what you can or can not do. You have these powers for a reason, Pete. Use them, or don’t.” He gave a shrug, trying to play it off as casual even if his heart was strangling him with this pinching pain at the idea of Peter willingly throwing himself into danger  _ again,  _ “I personally wouldn’t mind keeping you to myself for a few more days,” 

****

He waggled his eyebrows playfully, suggesting nothing even as he bit the corner of his lip. 

****

Peter flushed bright red at that, head ducking which resulted in his long hair falling in front of his eyes. “Y-Yeah?” He stuttered, picking at the eraser of his pencil, previous topic dropped and Tony wondered if he did it intentionally? “wouldn’t fucking me after a night of patrol be a lot more satisfying for the both of us?” 

****

Tony choked on his saliva, not at all prepared for the words the kid uttered, where the sudden courage came from or how that  _ word _ made this satisfying heat pool in his stomach. 

****

“Jesus, kid,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat as he gave a self conscious tug at his jeans, cringing at the sudden snugness of them around his crotch area, “Cue me in next time when we’re doing dirty talk so I can make sure all body parts are in tact and won’t potentially strangle me,” 

****

For example, his tongue, that was currently curling with saliva pooling in his mouth at the idea of fucking Peter while the boy was still sweaty from swinging around the city all night, his suit on with very little maneuvering to make it convenient for the both of them as he reminded Peter that although he may be a superhero to the world, he was still  _ Tony’s  _ obedient little boy. He was Peter Parker, the gentle, smug and kind idiot who Tony had the privilege of watching stand from his chair and cross the room in two large steps, or  _ leaps _ would be more of a sufficient description. 

****

The world got to see him for who he tried to be, but as Peter kneeled on Tony’s chair and sat firmly in his lap, a shy but breathtaking smile curving the fullness of his lips, Tony realized he got to see him for who he  _ was.  _ There was no hiding as Peter curled gentle fingers around his jaw, as a gust of starburst scented breath washed over his face before their lips met in a way the last puzzle piece clicked into place. 

****

Firm and unmoving; restoring a picture that was always meant to be one, but had to first find every corner to make it match. 

****

It knocked Tony breathless and simultaneously shoved the very breath back into his lungs. 

****

He kissed back without urgency, the languid glide of their lips slow and satisfying before Peter parted his lips and allowed Tony an unhesitated access after he drug his tongue across the chapped bottom lip. 

****

Yes. 

****

New York may forever own Spider-Man, but in moments like this; 

****

Tony Stark owned Peter Parker and Peter owned  _ Tony.  _

****

~~~~

****

It was stupid, to bring up the entire situation with Fury so casually and play it off like it was a genuine concern of his even though it was so far from the truth. 

****

Peter cringed as he recalled yesterday’s lab session, that had ended in what may have been a very  _ quick _ and messy fuck in Tony’s lab chair that may or may not have a broken back from Peter’s grip. The sex wasn’t what had him upset. It was  _ great.  _ Perfect, even. 

****

It was his stupidity of ever trying to discuss Fury with Tony, knowing the man was currently dealing with the leader of Shield on his own time. He didn’t need to know that Peter was conspiring behind his back, didn’t need to know he was currently on his way to their local cafe, dressed in undercover attire, so he could be picked up by one of Fury’s agents to be taken to a secret location. 

****

It would crush him, if he knew Peter was working with his “sworn” enemy. But it was  _ necessary.  _ There were no other options. 

****

Chanting that very sentence in his head over and over again as he ducked and dodged and weaseled his way through the compact groups of people walking during lunch rush, he tugged the rim of his hat down further, completely obstructing his view, and solely relied on his spidey senses to guide him down the road. 

****

His stomach was in knots. He wasn’t too pleased with the idea of meeting up with Fury, but he also knew it was necessary. Given the man’s last visit, they obviously weren’t the other’s biggest supporters, but the connection would have to do. 

****

Stopping hazardously in front of the doors of the cafe, which backed up the flow of human traffic and resulted in a few people slamming into his back with yelled profanities before they continued on their way, he surveyed the busy roads and glanced down at his phone. He was on time, as per Fury’s strict request, yet the man wasn’t even here yet. 

****

Typical. 

****

Rolling his eyes, Peter moved off to the side of the sidewalk and kicked a leg out behind him as he leaned against the building and scrolled through his phone, resisting the urge to text Tony until it became too strong and he finally gave in. 

****

_ Made it to the cafe. I’ll be home in a few. Any requests? -Peter.  _

****

The reply was almost immediate, and Peter grinned as he read over it. 

****

_ You can’t buy what I want at the cafe. -TS _

****

_ Oh, and what is it that you want? -Peter.  _

****

He bit his lip, eyes scouring the bystanders, like they  _ knew _ he was shamelessly flirting with another man currently and if they did, would they stop? Would they call him out? 

****

_ You, naked, on my bed. -TS _

****

Then, 

****

_ On second thought, maybe you can pick up a cup of whipped cream? I have a few ideas in mind where it’ll come in handy. -TS _

****

Peter flushed and wiggled, legs crossing in an attempt to keep himself from allowing his arousal to grow and blossom into anything more than a deep tugging in his stomach. 

****

_ Your wish is my command. -Peter.  _

****

His phone buzzed a second later, but he didn’t get a chance to read over it before a hand was suddenly tugging at his arm. Alarmed, Peter jerked his head up and was fully prepared to start swinging when he saw a familiar company brand car was pulled up to the curb illegally. 

****

Smiling shamefully, he allowed himself to be tugged around like a rag doll and man handled into the back of the SUV. “Hello, Peter,” the familiar rasp of a voice said, his head jerking to the seat next to him where he saw Fury was leaning against the door with his chin propped in his hand. 

****

“Sir,” He said with a nod, slipping his phone into his pocket before he removed his hat and ridiculously large and hot coat. 

****

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He purred, watching as the hat fell to the floor followed by the jacket, leaving Peter in a simple white shirt and blue jeans, “I have to tell you, I was pleasantly surprised to receive your call the other day. Does Tony know what you’re doing? And does he know you’re with me today?” 

****

Fury already knew the answer for that. Knew why Peter requested he not be picked up at the Tower, and why his phone call to Tony be held off. “No, sir, and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

****

Fury hummed. “He’ll start to get suspicious. I am an insistent man. If I suddenly stop hounding him, alarm bells with be raised. He’s too smart to be kept in the dark for a long period of time.” 

****

Peter flinched, eyes focusing on the blurs of images passing outside his window because he knew this. Anticipated it.  _ Loathed _ it. Tony would become aware of what he was doing,  _ why _ he was doing it, and he could only hide for so long, lie for so long. It was only a matter of time now before he was drug to the light. 

****

“I know,” Peter whispered, breath fogging the glass, “but you agreed to give me-  _ him _ time.” 

****

“I did,” Fury relented with a jerky nod, “and I am a man of my word. I’m not going to tell him. I’m simply saying he  _ will _ find out. Whether you like it or not.” 

****

Rather than immediately responding, Peter let the guilt rage like a storm within the confines of his chest; felt it for all it was offering and sagged back in his seat. He  _ hated _ this. Trying to do something good, but feeling bad while doing so because it called for sneaking around. 

****

“Let me deal with Tony,” Peter finally said, shoulders squared, “where are we going, anyway? You were vague over the phone.” 

****

“All in due time, Parker. All in due time,” 

****

And he can’t believe he  _ trusted _ this guy.

****

~~~

****

They pulled up outside of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, the sliding door loose and hanging off it hinges, the wood wilted and rotting in a few places with the paint chipped. It obviously hasn’t been I running order for well over a decade, and somehow, it seemed to fit Fury perfectly as he led Peter up a gravel driveway and pushed aside a panel opposite of the door and a glowing screen came into view. 

****

Peter watched, intrigued, as it scanned Fury’s hand before a metal latch below their feet popped open with a hiss and flung open to reveal a set of metal stairs that led down below ground level. Eyeing fury skeptically, he forced a smile at the hand waving for him to go, and forced his unwilling legs to move. 

****

It led to a cement hallway that reeked of mildew and dust, ominous lights dangling from single wires hanging overhead and swinging precariously as their footsteps rumbled the ground. He had no I-fucking-dea where they were and he was convinced for a second he’d misread the entire situation and was being led to his own execution, when Fury moved infront of him, took a sharp left and had a set of metal doors opening by the time Peter rounded the corner. 

****

It opened up into a small, secluded room that was dimly lit by a single lamp sat perched on a desk in the middle of the room and with the flicker of a light suddenly being turned on, Peter gasped as everything came to life. 

****

The wall that set before him flickered with a hundred different screens being powered on, a large, half wall sized tv sat large and daunting in the middle as it flickered with a blue screen before it changed to a desert with a small shack as its main focus. 

****

“What is th-“ Peter began to ask, but cut off as another of the small screens came to life. This one was of a house lodged in the mountains, a waterfall as it’s backdrop with a hundred foot drop greeting you at the bottom and he could hear the thundering roll of water crashing to the rocks below. 

****

Another screen flickered with an image of a modern home placed directly in the middle of a snow bank, the white flakes of fluff creating a barrier of protection with a hundred different foot steps marking their own paths. 

****

As his eyes moved over each and every screen, he realized they were images of different things; entirely different scenes. And when Fury lifted a hand, the live imaging stopped and with a wave, it was replaced with the familiar Museum that was only blocks from where Peter had grown up. 

****

Eyebrows furrowing, he turned to Fury. “Is this what I think it is?” 

****

“This,” He said with a wave, “is all you agreed to partake in by buying Tony time. Your fragile little human may not have to face reality for a few more weeks, but as you can witness here, you just signed up for one of the most complex and dangerous situations that will take place in Thanos’ wake.” 

****

Peter gulped, and moved his eyes back to the screen. That, what he was staring at, was the current residence of the Chitauri, or so Shield assumes. And despite knowing how dangerous it was, more so for him because he was to go undercover and try to infiltrate their compounds and be an inside man for them so they could see exactly what was going on all the while Peter had to remain cautious and alert so as not to get caught, he didn’t regret it. 

****

Didn’t regret calling Fury and begging for Tony’s freedom; even if it was for a few more weeks. Didn’t regret signing over his own freedom, his own  _ comfort,  _ if it meant Tony got to live in his little own oblivion for a little while longer. 

****

He may have to pull back on his Spidey suit far sooner than he was hoping to, but he got to go to sleep at night knowing Tony wasn’t having panic attacks at the mere  _ thought  _ of returning to his own. 

****

A quick glance at his phone solidified that decision.  

****

_ You granted every single one of my wishes by agreeing to be mine. -TS _

****

Followed by another that was sent minutes later. 

****

_ Screw the whipped cream. I’m already sweet enough. Be safe, and come home soon. Please, come home safe. -TS _

****

And he would. He was coming  _ home.  _

****

For too long, he’s been too far from home. 

****

Tony was  _ saving _ him.

****

~~~

****

-two weeks later-

****

Peter woke with a startle, a sudden bout of nausea punching his gut and he had enough time to untangle his legs from the sheets and lung for the garbage can sat next to Tony’s bed before he was spewing last night's dinner into the plastic container. 

****

It went on like that for a few more minutes, him believing he was done before he was doubled back over and puking  _ more _ into the garbage can before it dissolved into dry heaving and he was finally able to collapse back on his ass with his back pressed to the bed and he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. 

****

He wasn’t sure what the fuck was up, but for the past three weeks he’s been waking up more and more regularly to the need to vomit. An urge almost so unignorable he’d almost puked on Tony the first day. Of course, he’d managed to make it to the bathroom, as he tried to do every day before the man woke up, but it seemed like today was just incredibly worse. 

****

Chancing a cautious goance over his shoulder, he sagged in relief when he saw the bed was empty. He refused to tell Tony and worry the man. He knew it wasn’t a flu, considering he hadn’t been sick since getting his spider-bite, but he thought it was just some residual effects from the liquid that had been inside the knife and just wrote it off as that. 

****

But now, that wasn’t as easy of an explanation. Rising with a grimace, Peter waddled into the bathroom and stripped of his clothing before he took a quick shower, brushing his teeth three times before he gargled an entire bottle of mint mouthwash, and emerged from the bathroom dressed in an oversized MIT sweater of Tony’s and a pair of loose fitting sweatpants (nothing tight could go around his stomach first thing in the morning) and he made his way down stairs. 

****

Only to immediately regret it when he walked into the kitchen and was assaulted by twelve different smells. 

****

Bacon. Eggs. Perfume. Coffee. Creamer. Sweat. 

****

The list ran on for a mile long, and with a sudden flip of his stomach, Peter was rushing over to the garbage can and puking nothing more than stomach acid into it. 

****

The sound of someone retching called for everyone’s attention, and before he knew it, a warm hand was pressing against his back as calloused fingers brushed his hair out of the way. “Pete?” Tony asked, voice hitched with worry, “you alright?” 

****

“Just peachy,” Peter shot back, not intending to be snide or sarcastic but as another roll of nausea washed over him, he didn’t exactly have time to apologize. 

****

“You don’t look too hot, Spider-ling,” Thor said, forearm muscles bulging as he leaned most of his weight against it where it was extended along the wall. He had an Apple held in his other hand, bite marks evident in the red flesh. 

****

“I have to agree with Thor there, buddy, you look like a hot mess,” and that was Nat, who he threw a glare at over the rim of the garbage can before he sucked in a large breath and jerked up. 

****

Tony’s hand refused to fall, not that he was complaining. “I’m fine,” he argued, grimacing at the strip of vomit still costing his tongue. Acidic and burning; leaving his throat raw and scratchy. “I think I just have a bug, that’s all,” 

****

Nat raised a brow, not buying into the whole sickness thing but everyone else wrote it off with a grumbled acknowledgement and Tony even seemed to buy it as he moved from Peter’s side and got back to work at the stove. 

****

Which, funny. Peter hasn’t been aware he knew how to cook until weeks ago, yet now it was such a normal sight. 

****

Feeling like literal shit, and as if he’d just been ran through a wood chipper before deposited into a garbage disposal, Peter walked with weak legs over to the counter and collapsed on one of the stools. 

****

“Maybe eating something will make you feel better?” Tony suggested, gesturing towards the plate stacked high with pancakes but the idea of eating was a big no no. 

****

“Unless you want a repeat of what had just happened, I suggest you keep food far away from me,”

****

With a sudden tingle racing down his spine, Peters hand shot up in time to catch a crinkling package of saltine crackers. “Nibble on those. They help with nausea. They were my life saver while I was pregnant with Morgan,” Pepper said, and Peter was only now aware of her presence sitting on the sofa with Morgan kneeling by her feet coloring a picture. 

****

Suddenly, it made sense. 

****

Peter blanched at the word, “pregnant,” and darted his eyes to Tony’s back before he forced a smile. “Thanks.” He mumbled, hoping nobody caught his reaction but he just wasn’t that fucking lucky, was he? 

****

“Hey, Peter,” Nat said, seemingly innocent as she eyed him from across the bar, “I need to show you something in my room. Do you mind following me?” 

****

He really didn’t want to agree, but he watched as Pepper stood from the couch and began to approach them and he nodded so quickly it made him dizzy before he followed Nat all too eagerly out of the room, back up the stairs and towards her own room. 

****

Not at all acknowledging how nobody had questioning his attire, or the fact that Tony had been a little too touchy feely with him back there. Not enough, if you ask him. He expected to be dotted on the second Tony found out he was sick, not brushed off the second a lame excuse was offered. 

****

He pouted all the way into her room. 

****

“What was with the look,” Nat said as soon as the door was closed, and Peter wrinkled his nose in feigned shock. 

****

“What look?” 

****

“Don’t play dumb. You know  _ exactly  _ what look I’m referring to. Now spill, before I march back in there to Tony and spill about your morning ritual of barf and bath,” at the widening of his eyes, Nat grinned, “that’s right, I know all about it, little Parker. And you either have a severe case of bulimia, which is furthest from my mind, or you’re-“ 

****

“Pregnant,” Peter finished for her, cursing his inability to hide his facial expressions. He hated that Nat  _ always _ knew before him. “I found out on Thanos’ planet when that Tony ran a basic screening of my bodily systems and functions and found that with the spider bite came an enhanced and evolved version of a human's body. I grew a… er.. a reproductive system, if you will. I have god damn “spider eggs” that make it capable for me to become pregnant. I just didn’t think it could follow me to this planet,” 

****

He thought it had even entirely fictional, if he was being honest. He’s heard of the superhuman who had defied the odds and became pregnant, knew Loki had been one of them and had even carried a baby to nearly full term before he’d had a still born due to his sisters intervention when she’d risen from her slumber, but he’d never considered himself to be one of  _ those _ men. He never fell into any of the statistics. Always fell below subpar when it came to certain things and now that he  _ knew _ there was a possibility everything on Thanos’ planet hadn’t been a complete lie, he was starting to question everything. 

****

Nat gasped. “I was just kidding but ohmygod. Are you  _ serious?” _

****

Peter shrugged. “About my ability, yes. Or I’m fairly certain. I don’t know if I’m  _ actually  _ pregnant. I just figured it was from the liquid from that knife,” 

****

“Well then,” Nat said, and she was suddenly moving across her room and digging into her dresser before she pulled out a little cardboard box that was pink, and threw it at him. “There is only one way for us to find out.” 

****

He looked down at the item in his hands, and blanched. It was a pregnancy test. 

****

~~~ 

****

It was positive. 

****

_ Shit.  _

****

~~~

****

Telling Tony wasn’t an option. Peter stared down at the white stick with two lines, fear and happiness a punching cloud fighting for dominance in his heart and he choked on a startled cry. This wasn’t his plans; this wasn’t in the life he envisioned for himself. He was supposed to grow and become independent, not be forced back into a life of submission where his leash was allowed only a few lax inches for a bout of freedom but he could wonder no further than inches. 

****

He knew this would drive Tony insane, would possibly shut him out even further than he currently was, if not shut him down completely. But in the same instance, in another scenario where it didn’t break Tony, where the man didn’t immediately recoil at the idea of a baby with Peter, a diluted second chance at being the father he could never be for Morgan, Peter imagined he would be excited. Happy. Exhilarated, even. 

****

Helping prep for the arrival of their unborn child, take part in the baby shower and decorating the nursery and in this life, Peter happily gave up being Spider-Man (temporarily) even if it meant jumping into another life long commitment he could never back out from. This wasn’t in his  _ plans, _ but could he make room for it? Was this the exact thing he’s been searching for? The reasoning for his existence? 

****

But  _ no.  _

****

It was too  _ soon.  _ Too weird. Tony would probably leave the second Peter announced his pregnancy, disgusted by the very thought, turned off by the idea of a man’s body swelling in a mirrored image of Pepper’s with an air of abnormalcy, creating something who’s very existence wasn’t practical and was almost an abomination. A creature born from a  _ mutated freak.  _

****

It wasn’t heard of, at least not in humans. And Peter doesn’t think he can handle Tony looking at him in disgust; anything that wasn’t the soft, admiring gazes he quickly grew dependent on and accustomed to. 

****

So if he pushed himself a little too far, hid a little too close to the wall every night and refusing all physical contact with Tony, he didn’t give a reason why. He didn’t tell Fury why he was suddenly running around on active duty, infiltrating the Chitauris current home base not even a week into his designated mission, and discovered raiding the place, with super humans or not, would just call for a halt, lead to a dead end, because the extent of trafficking was a lot more extensive than they thought. 

****

It was a mutual, intergalactic system and he watched as a handful of blue children with delicate antennas sticking out from their foreheads, were led from a ship and ushered into a small loading van. It was hard to keep up with, he realized, when every other block it was easily sliding into a different visual and changing the make and model of their car and it had to be a play on reality, an altering on someone’s view, but it  _ was _ happening. 

****

And when he informed Fury of this, of how their planet wasn’t the only targeted destination nor was earth the only place receiving unregistered life forms from other planets in their solar system, the man immediately shut down their current attempts of infiltrating the place with a group of specifically trained men, and they got to work on the next plan of action. 

****

A course Peter was to lead with his specific knowledge on the situation. 

****

So far, he was drawing a blank. Having no idea how to do it safely for both parties and ensure all children and humans/aliens were recovered and rescued. He did tell Fury to include Thor, making the man promise not to inform Tony of Peter’s part in it all, and had him focus on the outer space aspect of it all while they focused on earth. 

****

“Are you going to let me make you a suit?” Tony asked, startling Peter out of his thoughts and he quickly shoved the pregnancy test back in his pocket before he subtly wiped at the corner of his eye. They were in the lab, Peter sat in front of the desk so the view of his hands were hidden from Tony’s line of sight, and the latter of the two was hunched over a table with some concoction bubbling in front of him. 

****

He peered at Peter over the rim of his glasses, brown eyes warm. “Pete?” 

****

“Hmm?” The boy nodded in acknowledgment, shaking all thoughts from his head as he focused blurry eyes on Tony and gave a few thoughtful blinks. “Oh, um, sure,” and he didn’t know what  _ else _ to say besides  _ yes.  _ “Nothing too flashy, though. Preferably something stretchy, without all the added gadgets. Just… simple. Like the original suit you made me,” 

****

It was still  _ flashy,  _ but not in the same way the suit he’d worn on Titan was. It was more modest, with a few technological improvements including the added benefit of having direct access to Friday while wearing the suit with in-suit intercoms allowing for direct lines to each teammate for a constant live feed from them. That was the simplicity he craves, the few improvements for convenience but nothing more. 

****

Tony’s nose wrinkled at the idea of not going above and beyond, but nodded. “I’m surprised you actually agreed. I was starting to think you enjoyed brushing bugs out of your teeth nightly,” he teased, winking. 

****

Peter rolled his eyes and giggled. “New York air makes your breath stink,” he argued, “it's more for your benefit than it is mine, anyway.  A win-win situation.”

****

He was actually becoming irritated with having a lack of suit. It was weird, being out in this planet. Nice, but weird, and it was even weirder not having to hide or duck in alleyways so he could strip and chance being discovered as he hazardously pulled on his suit and lost yet another backpack. 

****

“We’ll have to do measurements,” Tony said, abandoning the conversation of bugs and new York breath with a cringe, “you up for that now?” 

****

“Now?” Peter squeaked, hands unconsciously folding across his stomach in an insecure rush to hide it. “Sho-Won’t my measurements not be needed if you use the same vacuum sealant you did in my original suit? That was loosen when pulled on but when I activated it, ir shrunk to conform to my body which allowed room for growth.” 

****

He was imagining it, he knew it, but his stomach had a noticeable bump to it and he knew at this point he wasn’t even two months, but it made him feel as if he was several months along and a shirtless visual of him would out him in a second. Tony  _ knew _ his body. Knew his metabolism wouldn’t allow for any added weight gain no matter how little he worked out, which is why he thinks the slight pooch is so noticeable. The sharp cut of his abs were still there, obvious, but with a hump. 

****

And that wasn’t  _ normal.  _

****

Eventually Tony would call him out on his sudden refusal to face each other during sexual, always requiring back to chest, for the fear Tony would see what he was hiding and sooner or later he would notice Peter’s need to constantly wear a shirt while in his presence, not allowing hands to stray over his stomach even if that was Tony’s favorite place on his body. 

****

“Um, okay?” Tony said, a blotch of questioning in the arch of his brow. “Am I missing something here?” 

****

Peter quickly shook his head, brain screaming at him to dispute the situation and change the subject. “No, just worried if we make a suit to match my exact measurements at the moment, we will need to do an upgrade in a few months since my body is still changing from my return from The Realm it Souls,” 

****

_ Lies.  _ He stopped changing  _ months _ ago. 

****

“I wouldn’t mind. It’ll probably need an upgrade or two, anyway. To fit more than just your physical growth. You might change your mind and want an upgraded iron-suit.” 

****

“I won’t,” Peter said firmly, sure. “I don’t need it, Tony. It’ll just weigh me down, okay? Please- just stick to the basics and keep it simple.” 

****

The man pouted, but agreed. “Fine. As long as I can include a tracker chip? And a few upgrades on the heating system?” 

****

“No to the first, yes to the second,” and the look he got let him know Tony was going to verbally agree, but he would end up putting a tracker in anyway and for some reason, that didn’t make Peter upset. 

****

If anything, it had his stomach fluttering with large ass butterflies and a chord of sadness struck through him. 

****

As soon as Tony found out, he wouldn’t be allowed to feel like  _ this _ anymore. He would be pushed aside and forgotten. But an abortion wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary, and adoption was not an option. A half mutant, heir to Tony Stark baby, was just a disaster waiting to happen if it fell into the wrong hands. 

****

Peter decided before he even knew of his decision, he was keeping the baby. Even if it meant losing Tony. 

****

He couldn’t  _ lose _ parts of him self, his humanity and beliefs, by getting an abortion just to keep the man. 

****

“Hey,” Tony suddenly said, standing to approach Peter. He pulled the boys chair back, easily sliding it across the floor, and with a hand under his elbow he was pulling him up and placing a warm hand on the side of his neck as his eyes scanned over his face. A soft sweep of his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip drew a shutter from the boy. “Are you okay?”

****

Swallowing thickly, Peter nodded, cautious to keep their stomachs apart even as he leaned his head into Tony’s hand and allowed his eyelids to flutter closed. “‘Course I am. Why?” 

****

“Lemme rephrase that,” Tony said, “are  _ we  _ okay?”

****

And Peter didn’t regret it when he opened his eyes, smiled, and said, “Better than ever, yeah?” 

****

Followed by a soft, “I’m good. We’re good. I’m  _ happy,” _

****

Because it wasn’t a lie. He was going to have a baby with a man he loved, even if it was a hidden love, and even when he lost Tony, he was still going to have a part of the man. Forever and always. Proof that, for one day, Tony Stark had  _ loved _ him. 

****

Unarguably.

****

And he  _ was _ happy. In his own forged way. 

****

~~~


	4. Tony was coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT IS A WRAP. For this book, at the very least. I have one last installment in this trilogy and it is what I am most excited about! I realize this ending was sort of all over the place and anticlimactic in a way, but I hope you enjoy! This has been thoroughly healing for me, and I have loved writing it even if my ability to actually write is limited. Lmao. Anywhoodle, prepare for the next installment, and stay lovely!
> 
> :)
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Xx

The swelling of his stomach was almost instantaneous after the second month. It wasn’t just a small bump now, it was well rounded and curved; heavy against the fingers pressed on the underside of the bump and if not for the baggy clothes Peter found an abundance of in Bruce’s things (it wasn’t stealing, contrary to Bruce’s accusations), he was sure he would have been called out sooner. 

That it would have been anyone but Thor to notice it, the glow brushing across his skin in radiating pulses of life and health. He’d hidden, been careful; made sure to steer clear of anyone who would stare at him longer than necessary and moved to sleeping in his own room with the excuse to Tony that he just needed a few nights alone- heart breaking every fucking time he thought of Tony’s facial expression after that. He’d looked utterly fucking broken because Peter was a coward. 

Still, Thor called him out. Thankfully when they were standing alone on the landing pad on the roof, watching as the jet moved from a visible blip to an exact replica of the sky; camouflaging itself into the orangish hues cast from the lowering sun. Nat and Steve were leading the team, meaning Clint and Sam because the rest were unneeded, on a small case upstate for the weekend. 

 **** “You are pregnant, Spider-ling,” he said, eyes focused on the sky to hedge an easy atmosphere over them to show he was not judging, or here to out him, just simply stating. “Loki was much like you with our pregnancy. He was just as round,”

 **** And Peter was prepared to deny it, to call him out on how wrong he was and that he shouldn’t just assume things, until Thor brought up his brother and their lost child; killed by Thor’s own bloods hands. He knew it was hard for the man to talk about either of them, and Peter was reminded that so many people had lost so much in such a short period of time. 

 **** His heart ached when Thor gazed at him from the corner of his eyes, just an assurement Peter was listening, and the young teen’s heart caught in his throat at the glistening tear clinging to the tiny eyelashes underlining Thor’s brilliantly blue eyes that reflected so much pain and sorrow; a lifetime filled with death and betrayal and loss. 

How selfish had Peter been, cruel, to tell him his pain was so pale in comparison to his own simply because he’d lost a man he loved. Thor lost so much more. And Peter had been under the influence of Venom, but he knew the parasite only spoke the truth he kept hidden inside himself. He’d wrongfully lashed out and now here he stood, shuffling on aching feet with an ashamed flush to his cheeks. 

“Three months,” the kid breathed out, breath hot and muggy as it formed a cloud of fog around his head. Winter was coming, and quick. 

He wasn’t sure if he was permitted to address Thor’s brother after what he’d said before, but he found himself taking a step closer to the man nonetheless and placed his hand on the smooth, bare bicep. He had no right to offer comfort, yet it seemed right and Thor didn’t object.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, the slight wobble of his lip hidden as he sucked it into his mouth and bit down. “You didn’t deserve the hate I unfairly projected on you while under Venom’s control. Loki was a worthy soldier, and his life was taken far too soon. It was unfair, and I am sorry, Thor. For discrediting that.”

“Do not worry, Spider-ling. I took no offense to what you said,” his eyes said something different, and he hid them from Peter’s line of sight as they dropped to focus on the hand on his arm. Peter had _hurt_ him. “Tell me, Peter, is the man of Iron excited for this child?”

Peter’s eyes bulged out of his skull, and he quickly took a step back. “What makes you think it is Tony’s? Because it’s no-“

“Calm, Peter. I am not judging you or the man of Iron. I am aware of why you want to keep it secret, so do not worry. I will not tell anyone.”

“Why? You could ruin my life right now, and what is stopping you? I was beyond rude to you, Thor. I deserve it.” Tears pricked his eyes, hot and sticky. 

Thor shook his head. “You do not. You have been through hell, Spider-ling. We expected too much from you too quickly, and nobody ever granted you time to grieve. I was allowed to grow fat, but you were expected to be _okay_ because the man of Iron put everyone’s hope in your return. It was hard to transition, but I do not blame you for anything you said,”

Peter sniffled and tore his gaze away to peak at the darkened sky that was too polluted to really see stars. “How did you react to Loki’s news of being pregnant?” Peter asked, changing the subject because talking about himself reminded him of thoughts he hoped to keep dormant and he was trying really hard not to cry right now. ****

Thor’s eyes brightened at that, an honest to god beacon and when Peter looked at him, he saw a thunder storm rolling through the blue orbs; the storm swelling in his iris until it expanded to his pupils and a brief streak of lightning crackled across the entire orb. Happiness was an evident track across the tired and scarred angles on his face.

If his reaction was anything similar to that, even just his look, he could see why Loki had been so smitten. “I was thrilled, to be a father. Loki and I discussed having a child, but we were never successful until after father's death.

Peter smiled small, sad, and wished more than anything that Tony would react in the same manner as Thor, show the same level of enthusiasm, if not more. But he knew it was a silly fantasy. “I fear Tony will not have the same mindset,” Peter breathed out, a tear finally falling to roll down the curve of his pale cheek. 

“He does not know?”

“No,”

Thor hummed. “Tony is lost,” he said, and Peter choked on the actual use of the man’s name. Thor never called _anyone_ their given name. “He is unsure of his place, much like everyone who was affected by Thanos, but he deserves credit. He could not be there for Morgan or Pepper in the ways they needed him to be, Peter. Do not deny him that chance now. Your fear is valid, but misplaced. The man of Iron is smitten to you, much like I to Loki, and I can confidently promise he will be just as excited as I was for my child,” 

A child he would never see. Never get to hold or cradle; never get to call them by their given name or nickname he provided them. He could never be a father in the same way he was meant to be with Loki, and Peter hated that. Hated that Thor, the kindest man he’s ever met, went through all of this. And alone.

He was doing better, however. Peter noticed the rapid weight loss and regaining of muscle and bulkiness. Thor stood next to him not as the man covered in Cheeto dust he’s heard so much about, but as the god of lightning. The way he holds himself is more confident now, because he knows that nothing can tear him down. He has lost all he can lose, let his heart be ripped apart and stomped on by the very galaxy meant to protect him, and now he was invincible. Becoming one with the thunder rolling over head, dancing in the streaks of lightning across the sky and Peter swears he sees the corner of Thor’s lips twitch at the exact moment a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; crackling in a way that sounded like a booming laugh.

It was easy to forget a man he claimed to be a member of his family, was the immortal god so many have heard about through prophecies and stories thought to be fantasy; the protector of earth and beyond. 

“Loki was lucky to have you as a husband,” Peter said, soft and cautious, afraid he wasn’t allowed to speak even if this was a conversation. 

“And Tony is lucky to have you as a partner, young one,”

“You never questioned my sanity, or Tony’s. Why is that? Surely even Asgard has an unwritten rule that age gap in a relationship is wrong,”

“In Asgard, age is not of relevance. When we mate, we mate with a soul, not a body. We bind ourselves together for eternity, and if you cherish something as simple as a body and worry about its length of existence, what will there be left to cherish when you are not bound to the body?” Peter didn't have a chance to respond before Thor was continuing.

“I am also aware that my relationship with my brother was not practical nor moral to you humans, whereas on Asgard it was not even questioned. Loki was not of blood relation, yet so many claimed it was wrong and disgusting. Believe me when I tell you, Spider-ling, age is of no importance to me nor will I judge for such a thing. As long as it is all consensual, I will be there to support you,”

“Even when Tony leaves?”

“He will not leave you, Peter, but to ease your worry, I will be there even if he does leave.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Spider-ling. Everything will be just fine.” 

Coming from Thor, it didn’t seem so unbelievable. 

~~~

Thor watched as the young spider-ling waddled through the door, hands braced beneath his stomach to cradle his semi-obvious bump, and felt a telling thump of his heart against his chest when he leaned his head back and bared his face to the stars. After Loki’s death, he’d searched every single flickering light in the galaxy for the man; overturned every rock and scavenged through every planet. 

He twirled through the galaxy, looking no more than a flick of dust in his quest, and parted the very sky with shouts and begs; pleading to bring back his husband he could no longer feel like a tingle across his skin. No longer tug at the tethering between their two hearts just to feel the slight push he’d get back in response. On Asgard, souls merged as one in the form of marriage; bonding. They twined together in flaring white lights and sizzled into warmer, fall colors but now Thor knew he was reeking of guilt and pain because his white had muddled into a dirty grey.

Loki was no longer his, the soul of the man lost and never to be returned, and he could not blame himself for it any longer. His death, had happened. Their child’s death, had happened. His father’s death was just as inevitable, and he wished he could stop outrunning the claws of death and allow it to still his beating heart so then, maybe, he could search every plane beyond the living for his lost soldier. ****

For his other half. ****

And while that wish was ever prominent in his trek back through the building the mortals called a tower, he no longer felt as desperate to reach the end goal. He was here now, to fight and _live,_ and to never give up his search for Loki. 

Only now, he had a family there to help him. Defend him. _Protect_ him, even if he knew he could protect himself. But sometimes, pain wasn’t as intimated by brute force and required physical contact to soothe the ripples of pain edging into focus on nights like tonight. 

His soul may not be complete, and he may not be able to answer _why_ he couldn’t feel Loki even though he could feel the faint tickling of their sons soul; had been able to since his death, but it all seemed irrelevant when a strong arm slung over his shoulder and pulled him down to the eye level of the brown eyed midget. 

“Conned Peter into setting up a board game,” Tony said, grinning as he retracted his hold on Thor and continued towards the elevator. “I’m heading downstairs to get the food, you hunt for the alcohol, and I’ll be back up to kick your ass at monopoly.” 

He saw a reflection of Peter’s soul in Tony’s eyes, he noted delightfully. A very mirrored reflection to him and Loki, of how they’d been connected without truly having that bond before marriage and he knew it should be impossible given the man’s not-technically-human problem, but it seemed the gods did not care. Peter was meant to find Tony, and Tony was meant to find Peter. Thor had realized this years ago, just never truly understood the parts they were to play in each other’s lives until he stood before the man radiating with happiness at the mere concept of showing off in front of _his_ partner. 

“Do not get too cocky, Man of Iron. Hulk has taught me your tricks,” 

 _No_. Everything may not be alright, or perfect, but it was entirely okay to pretend if it meant he helped draw these two idiots together. 

~~~

Peter huddled closer to the wall, thin material of his suit constricting tightly around his waist and offering a -possibly unsafe- girdle to hide his bump and if not for the subconscious inkling that it was bad, and the fact that it was incredibly unbearable pressure after only an hour, he would wear the suit all day, everyday just to stay hidden. But as it was, he was breathless and clammy, fingers clinging to the wall as his heartbeat raced through his body and pounded against the stonewall through ten little fingers prickling with awareness and the need to escape.

Every hair on his body stood on alert, the base of his skull tingling as every ounce of his body fought against his immediate fight or flight response; choosing to rather go with flight as his untrained ears caught the heavy footsteps just an echoed breath behind him; pounding away at the damp asphalt and no doubt creating craters where it’s enormous feet made contact with the weeping earth. 

He was no match for that thing, pregnant or otherwise and he wasn’t about to prove his theory correct. Danger was necessary, but at moments like this, it was _very_ unnecessary. 

“Fuck,” he whined, all high pitched and breathy with a guttural rasp plucking at his vocal chords, when he heard the creature inhale sharply before it roared and with a sudden sureness to its steps, it began in Peters exact direction. 

— one hour prior —- 

Peter stood outside the building, so ordinary and mundane; harmless to the untrained eye but with very little effort, he focused past the insistent humming of cars and the occasional blaring of horns to focus on the labored breathing of the silhouette he saw perched on top of the building. With Friday deactivated so Tony was sure to never get his hands on any of the surveillance footage from Peters suit, he couldn’t see more than his black body illuminated by the dying moon sizzling out in pale pulses of light. And the lack of his AI meant a lack of any and all enhanced luxuries he’d become dependent on. 

The museum was vacant of any and all life, lights sparse throughout the area with only overhead lamps illuminating the sharp corners of every building and a yellowish light sat hauntingly above the double doors at the front to cast a terrifying and intimidating glow that had a chill racing down Peters spine, contending with the chill somehow seeping through his suit. 

 **** Fury had recent reports of unusual activity rising to the radars in the area within the past week, and despite Peter’s pleading, he was sent solo to survey the place and find a weak point. An entry for them; a solid lead that could solidify Shields need for probable cause and douse their laws so they could do this legally without the added cushioning of Alien Laws getting in the way. 

Where Peter wasn’t technically a member of the Avengers, unlike Thor, and he had _nothing_ to do with Shield, like their agents- he was technically free of all legality issues. Of course, if Fury ever decided to turn against him, he could be tried with superhero vigilantism below the radar with the strict order from the higher ups in shield on remaining inactive if he was not ready to continue his role as Spider-Man. While that was a fear, a very valid one, he knew he now had Fury by the balls and could do anything to the man without having any repercussions. 

He was the man outside the law, in Fury’s book. Currently untouchable and willing to do anything so long as Tony never found out, and rather the man wanted to admit it or not: he needed Peter.

With that realization, Peter exhaled a slow, steady breath and pried his sticky feet from the asphalt, where he’d apparently rooted himself in place, and melted back into the shadows. It was with cautious steps and practiced movements that he bled into the nighttime; looking so sleek and lethal as he moved almost predatorily over the grass and along the side of the building. His back was pressed flat against the wall, fingers gliding along the ridges and indents from chipped stone as he strained his ears to hear anything and everything going on around him. 

Past the soothing chords of a song belting through a speaker across the street where a person was walking- the shouting of someone as they had a one sided conversation with a staticy receptor being the only thing Peter could make out responding to him, was the soft drawl of feet dragging lazily across the tiled floor. 

The relentless march seemingly down pact as they began at one end of the building and ended just where Peter stood outside a door, the wheezy breaths echoing through deformed lips ringing loud and sharp in his ears and it was when the Chitauri began its track back that he carefully opened the door and slipped in before running in the opposite direction with quiet steps. 

 **** Having a familiar grasp of the entire layout, Peter laid a hand across his stomach out of habit as he walked, breathing schooled to keep the noises quiet. The hallways were just as dark and vacant as outside had been, if not more, and the air was hot and muggy- clinging to his lungs in tiny droplets of water that gave him the illusion of drowning as a light dew ghosted over the material of his mask and creased down and over the fold of where his eyebrow was hidden by the material. 

 **** _Aliens and their constant need to be hot._

He tiptoed and snuck around, peeking into empty rooms and trying to find _anything_ to report back to Fury. He was on alert and being overly cautious, jumping to crawl across the ceiling minutes in to help keep him hidden even with the uncomfortable churning of his stomach from having the suit on for so long. 

It was only minutes into his search when he first heard it, the low whimpering coming from a room secured by a bolted latch and with a grace he didn’t know he had, he dropped to the floor on silent feet and walked to the door. 

Focusing. 

Sure enough, a second later and he heard it again; broken and pleading, striking a chord in his heart that related to the emotions this person was projecting and with a look thrown over his shoulder, Peter grabbed the metal in his hand and gave a firm squeeze, cringing when the lock crumbled into chunks in his hand; thankful, though, that it hadn’t been loud. Muffled due to his cupped hand. 

Swinging the door open, Peter quickly scurried in and his eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, squinted into the dark. What he saw made him immediately recoil, Fire and ice raining down on him in a challenge as it fought every single dormant muscle and automatic response in his body. 

Curled up in impossible tight balls were five children, all huddled on a small, scratchy blanket and at the sound of the intruder one whimpered loud and scurried back into the corner, obviously terrified as every single one began to visibly shake. Heart lurching, Peter rushed into the room and closed the door softly. 

“Hey,” He said softly, cautious to keep any and all volume out of his voice. “Hey, look, it’s me. I'm a good guy, see-“ and he stepped in front of the boarded window, taking advantage of the silver of moonlight filtering in through a crack to allow his mask to be lit up enough to be recognized. 

One kid lifted his head, eyes red and puffy with tears scratching his cheeks but the undiluted happiness and relief when he saw Peter for who he was was immediate. He scrambled to his feet, wobbly if only a little, and catapulted himself into the man’s arms. 

“Spider-Man!” He cried, fragile voice so soft and broken as it squeezed tightly around Peter’s heart. “I wanna go home, please. Save us.”

And what started as a simple routine mission to crack the code of the Chitauris habits and see if they faltered in any of their steps that would allow weaknesses; quickly turned into a rescue party. Peter gathered up the children and moved them to a different room, hallways away from the original and it looked vacant enough, and promised them he’d be back before he returned to the hallway he’d found them in and began searching every room. 

He’d just reached the last door in this hallway, just before he entered the main entry room where most of the displays were laid out, when he heard it and felt as every hair on his body stood on alert. The whirring of a gun, powered by an electronic core not from earth, and when he turned around it was in time to watch as a streak of purple flew past his head and slammed into the door behind him; shattering it into a hundred shards that rained down on his back. 

Jumping out of the line of Fire, Peter tucked and rolled into the jump, running in the opposite direction of the Chitauri as he cursed under his breath. 

These fucking things loved their guns, he had to give them that. 

Pressing the small button on the shell of his ear, Peter blinked through the sudden blinding light filtering through the lens covering his eyes, and hissed when Friday’s voice greeted him loud and sharp. 

“Hi, boss- on your next left there is a creature surpassing the size of hulk currently making his way down the corridor. On your right is an exit- would you like me to alert mister Stark of your current location and request immediate backup?” 

He squawked in response, almost telling her no but then he caught sight of what Friday had just seconds ago warned him about, and his blood immediately ran cold. “Yes, alert Fury too. Tell him my position has been compromised but I have found children on the premises.” 

The creature stood on two hind legs, bulky and thick with large veins making trails down his legs in black tree branches. It had a grayish tint to its skin, upper build similar to the hulk if not more impressive where tree trunk arms set connected to large expanse of shoulders and its lips peeled back in a snarl. Revealing thousands of tiny teeth that all rattled in warning, all a contrast to the pink fold of his lips that looked as if areas were bleeding. 

And that was all it took for Peter to turn and run, slamming through the exit door only for a Chitauri gun to jam right into his sternum and with little thought, Peter brought his hand up and down and back handed the alien upside the head so hard it was sent flying into the side of a large van and he didn’t give it time to get back up before he took off running down a darkened alleyway. 

—- present —-

He wasn’t sure how long he’d run for, or where he currently was even, but he was halfway up the wall, the hulk-like creature swinging at his legs from where it stood helpless at his feet and with every swing there was a growl. Apparently its size was the only thing going for it, because despite its attempts, it couldn’t reach him. 

“Friday,” Peter panted, lungs screaming in protest as sharp cramps shot throughout his stomach. “Where is Tony and Fury?” 

“Mr. Stark was unreachable last time I tried, and Mr. Fury is currently enroute with his agents. He asked I alert Thor, but the god of thunder is out of my current range.”

“Shit,” Peter cursed, “ETA?” 

“Five minutes and counting,” 

“Okay,” he could do five minutes, “give me a direct video line to Mr. Starks current location.” 

“On it, boss.” 

And he felt the stall in her programming as she reached out to do as he asked, and seconds later the left lense was filling with a live footage of Tony tapping furiously at a holographic projection of his latest iron man suit update. 

“Tony,” Peter called out, swallowing thickly when he heard how desperate his raspy voice sounded. 

At the name, Tony popped his head up and looked around before the holographic image in front of him was replaced with the live footage from Peter’s suit. The man’s face lit up, only to fall the second he caught sight of Peter’s current state. “Hey, Pete, you alright? What’s wrong?” 

He opened his mouth to respond, only for the sound of brick crumbling to the ground to drown out his voice as he jerked his head to the left and watched through his unblocked right lense to see as a hundred Chitauri marched towards him, ground level, with their weapons trained on him. 

He must have made a noise, or Tony must have heard _something,_ because he was immediately standing. “What the hell was that? Peter!” 

“Chitauri. I found their current base and apparently they weren’t hosting a house warming party because I was chased off the premises by a fucking hulk on steroids with a head that opens up into a million tiny teeth, and about a hundred Chitauri.” Deflecting, which was in this case humor, was his defense mechanism that helped him not panic in situations such as this, and as he spoke, he swung himself up and over the building and stumbled across the rock filled expanse of land- narrowly missing three different beams shot from the guns below him. 

“Stay where you a-“

“Can’t do that, sir,” Peter breathes out sharp, reverting back into the old comfortable and familiar mindset of a teenage boy seeking validation in his mentors arms as he lifted himself over the ledge of the building opposite of the one he just jumped off of. “If I stay still, they have more of a chance to shoot me.” 

He would give anything to go back to a time where _humans_ were his biggest threat. 

He heard it before he registered what he was seeing, the low humming as the repulsors powered to life on Tony’s suit and when he focused on the left lense, he was being fed live imagery through Tony’s own in-suit cam.

Tony was coming for him. 

And _he_ was definitely a match for steroid-hulk. 

He didn’t get to enjoy the victory of that realization, however, because his next swing was cut prematurely as a flash of purple cut through his web and his body was hit by red pulses that coaxed along his skin in soothing rolls that locked all his muscles in place and he realized, horrified, that he couldn’t move from the neck down. 

“Tony!” He shrieked, airborne as he fell from stories high, completely expecting to meet his death at the bottom and the only thought racing through his brain was the need to protect the baby; his baby. _Their_ baby. “I can’t move, Tony. I can’t move. I can’t-“ he broke off with a sob, straining to move even a finger.

But he wasn’t _strong_ enough to fight whatever the Fuck was inhabiting his mobility. 

“Boss- your heart rate is elevated and you are falling at an alarming rate. Would you like me to deploy the emergency parach-“ 

“Yes, Friday, deploy the god damn parachute!” Tony snarled, all fried nerves and bleeding heart. Peter jerked back as the parachute was deployed, air catching the folds of fabric. “I’m just a few minutes away, kid. I’m almost there. Hang in there for me, okay?” 

He didn’t respond, couldn’t, because anything that came out of his mouth would either further scare and worry Tony, or would be a lie, and he didn’t see either working in his favor so he instead let out a loud, high pitched scream that tore his throat to shreds and with one last look at the polluted sky barely twinkling with stars, he closed his eyes and- 

Opened them again. 

Only now he wasn’t airborne, he was cradled in someone’s arms and hope flooded his body until he looked up and caught sight of one glistening tooth that was visible from a lip curled back.  Steroid-hulk has him clutched in his arms, grip tight if not cautious. 

“Let go of me!” Peter sobbed, mindless to the fact that Tony was yelling in his ears but he couldn’t hear a word he was saying. “Tony! I don’t want to go, please. Don’t let them take-“ 

He was cut off abruptly when something sharp pierced the side of his neck and within a second, he was out cold. 

The last thing Tony saw in the video before it faded into black and grey static, was Peter’s eyes rolling into the back of his skull as black flooded the white of his eyes. 

~~~

By the time Fury and his men made it to the reported scene, the area was vacant. Void of any and all life with all traces of anything human or otherwise living here, gone. White flooded the museum as they turned on the lights and searched every single available inch, finding neither Parker or the children he’d reportedly found and he was honestly considering going to the higher ups, falsely believing he had been played, when the ceiling above them was suddenly caving in and Tony was landing before him in a blaze of red and gold glory; looking every bit of the acclaimed hero he’d been years ago. 

Fury stuttered in his movements at the sight. Tony Stark May not be intimidating in the least to Fury, or so he claims, but he has never once doubted or denied his fear of the man when wearing his suit. He was dangerous as a human, lethal with just his mind, but now he had the manpower to back up the lashings of his thoughts and one repulsor was currently powered up and focused directly at Fury’s chest. 

“You have _five_ seconds to catch me up with whatever the fuck just took Peter- _then_ I’m going to decide if I want to spare you or not,” and the glint in his eye was murderous, playing into the truth of his words and leaving little room for doubt as his palm surged forward an inch and the repulsor whirred loud. Actions to solidify his promise. 

 **** Lying was his forte, his go to, but stood before him now wasn’t simply Tony Stark, nor was it Iron man, it was both coexisting and working in a way he’d never witnessed but knew would be dangerous when it came to Tony’s realization of exactly _how_ dangerous he could be. He was a man of Iron, and a man of science and fierce love and devotion. Drawing elements and strengths from all mentioned, and Fury realized standing in his way now would only speed up his death. 

And for some reason, that did the exact opposite of Tony’s case than he’d thought. Before, he would have claimed this to be too dangerous and Tony too machine-like to really be coherent and capable of human emotions but now he could see he was wrong. Tony’s was lucid, the sharpness in his eyes as he tracked and accessed Fury almost comical because through the anger was the faint ripples of emotions and his humanity was screaming through the brown orbs; begging to be seen for who he felt not to be, but had always been. 

 _This_ is what Fury has been pressing to see.

This was Tony Stark, the man far superior than any human version of himself had ever been. A man driven by his _emotions,_ but aware enough to stay in control of himself and even before Tony had poor impulse control. Fury’s fears before, however valid then, were no longer a concern now and he took a second to be grateful he was on this man’s _side._ Legally. 

Now, it seemed, laws were of no importance. 

“Parker asked to keep you in the dark about it,” he said, still challenging if only to get a rise out of the man as he folded his arms across his chest in a show of smug power- only for Tony’s words to really register like a stinging slap across his cheek. “Wait, what? The Chitauri took Peter?” 

He may not like the kid, but that didn’t mean he didn’t just lose a _strong_ asset. 

A loss was a loss, especially in their line of work. 

Tony growled, deep and defensive as he squared his shoulders and shuffled to spread his legs in a defensive stance. “Now, Fury. Before I decide seeing is too much a privilege for you and handle the matter myself by-“ 

“We were closing in on the Chitauri,” Fury cut him off, anxiety echoing in his movements as he shuffled a step back- playing it off like he was moving to lean against the wall when, in reality, the position hurt his back. “Shield became aware of an intergalactic human trafficking trade, and we’ve been tracking them for months, this,” he waved around them, “was the closest we’ve came to catching them. Parker agreed to partake in the festivities and help under one condition.” 

“What was the condition?” Tony snapped. 

“You.”

“Me?” He asked, perplexed as dark eyebrows drew over confused eyes.

Fury nodded. “You were off limits. I had the kid off the books, you got to remain titleless and act every bit of a spoiled brat. Peter bought you time and was allowing you a chance to regain your grounding and find out who you were now without shield breathing down your neck.” 

“Peter he- this is _my_ fault?”

—-

The room was dark and cold, the steady drip of water from the leaking ceiling splashing in timed drops to the floor, extending the puddle into and inch pool of murky water. Peter had woken up minutes ago, disoriented and confused until everything came crashing back into him and he was bolting upright in his thin, flimsy mattress that was sitting on the floor, pressed in the corner.

First thing he became aware of, besides the drip, was the fact that he was nude. Well, aside from his boxers. His suit was gone and out on proud display stood his protruding belly, loud and visible even in the darkened room and he immediately put his hand against the side of his stomach and focused long enough to hear the fast, jittering of a familiar tiny heartbeat before he slumped against the mildew scented wall and looked around.

Even with his heightened vision, he could barely see anything and he was wondering if that was an effect from whatever they’d given him, or if something else was inhabiting his abilities. 

The room was dark and shabby, no visible entry to be seen on the blank concrete walls and when he tried to stand, he found he still had no movement to his legs. They were tingly and clearly still useable, but his spider-abilities were clearly having trouble burning through the drugs in his system and the cottony hedging to his vision and ears were now all too apparent. 

“Nice to see you’re awake,” an invisible voice said, deep and raw; octovates lower than should be humanly possible and with a baited breath, he realized it wasn’t, in fact, _human._ “We are excited to have you, Mister Parker. You will prove to be a rather valuable asset,”

What the fuck was it with him and his ability to attract creepy aliens who apparently always had, “a plan,” for him?

——-

After watching the video from Peter’s in-suit cam, which was always recording regardless of his orders to Friday on shutting it down, and upon seeing _exactly_ what took him, Hulk had emerged from Banner with panicked growls and threats as he threw the conference table through the glass wall and went chasing after it, barreling through the small hallways with his head bent down at a godly angle before he flung himself out of the thirty story building and landed surprisingly gracefully on a car below them. 

It wasn’t until Nat and Client managed to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart, even on the move, that they’d gotten Banner back as he collapsed, naked, a block away from Stark Towers with bypassers screaming in fear even as they watched, curious, as an unconscious Bruce was hauled back towards the towers. 

Hours later, and he’d regained enough consciousness to tell them the creature that had taken Peter was a bottom dweller from Mars, an in ground Martian, acting as a more or less lethal mole who had the ability to spit acid that would immediately render his opponent blind as a searing pain spread throughout their bloodstream as his saliva worked through the layers of skin and boiled their body from the inside out. Not to mention the rows of teeth he has.

Apparently, during his time in space, he’d come across one that had very nearly killed hulk. A name wasn’t offered, just a vague recollection of the Grand master calling him, “The venomous hulk,” as a nickname to rile up the crowd. The weaknesses were unknown, besides Hulks claiming that the creature had stopped squirming after he’d flung him so hard against the concrete wall that the monster had splattered. 

It took months for him to heal, and he told them, frantic and a tad bit delirious as they upped his sedative, that if it had _Peter,_ it was only a matter of time before they found his body. Nobody seemed to notice the thick scar tissue pinched between banners inner thigh, directly above his knee, where the creature had sunk his teeth into him and _ripped._

They didn’t truly understand his _fear._ They could only comprehend their own fear generated by the sight of the monster, and Tony decided, as his suit slithered across his skin; acting on pure memory, that he was going to have _fun_ splattering this thing against the wall. 

~~~ ****

They came in hours later, through a pulsing portal that appeared on the wall opposite of his bed, to pull Peter from his makeshift bed. Only now it was a human woman dressed in purple scrubs with a white hospital jacket pulled tightly around her body that greeted him with a tight smile and wide eyes. “Hello, Mr. Parker,” she greeted him, obviously strained as her eyes flickered to her right where a gun was trained on them. Two Chitauri stood guard behind them. “My name is Pamela Dean,” 

He took the hand she offered in greeting, having enough awareness to realize she was just as much a prisoner as he was. His hands moved to then guard his stomach from their gazes, which caught her attention. “This is what called for my attention?” She asked, a little awestruck as she took a step forward only to jolt back at the warning growl from one of their watchers. “Are you a born male, or female?” 

“Male,” he squeezed out, airway clamping shut as he shifted from foot to foot, fighting off the prickling beneath his skin he knew to be his natural responses and right now, he wanted to _fight._ Apparently his spider mutation didn’t take kindly to having guns pointed at him, or his unborn child. 

She gave a nod, eyes pleading as she begged for him to understand as she took a vile from her left pocket and produced a syringe from the right. “Forgive me, but I was ordered to give you a light dosage of this. It will not harm your baby, it will just make you relax as I give you a routine checkup to check both of your health,” 

He could hear the _but,_ lingering in the unsaid words still floating around her head. 

He took a step back, body now pressed flat against the wall with his back getting rubbed raw by the coarse, jagged edges of the cement. “Why do I need a checkup?” 

“It is mandatory for all candidates, though yours was requested for immediate attention because of the rarity of your case. A human child will go for hundreds of thousands of dollars, but a human child with mutated cells will go for millions.” And she must have realized she offered too much information, _over_ explained everything that was going on, because she flinched even before the gun was lifted and held perfectly still as the blunt end of the gun bashed into the back of her skull. 

Peter only remembers surging forward to help her before she fell, only to be jabbed in the arm after by a needle and he can’t lie and say he felt betrayed by the woman, because he didn’t. She was a stranger fighting for her own life, and with a whispered sob, all his fight left his body. “They have my kids. If I don’t do this, they’ll kill them,”

After that, he was led to a room and hooked up to numerous monitors, a warm, fuzzy feeling overlapping the discomfort from all the tests being run. He was pricked and prodded, stomach and head being paid special attention to as a Doppler wand ran over the smooth skin on his stomach and he saw, for the first time, _drugged out of his mind,_ the white blip on the black screen. Hazy at the edges with the image unclear, but he still saw the soft curve of a delicate nose, the curling of a tiny hand, and he _sobbed._

And sobbed. 

And sobbed. 

Even as they took his picture, with his stomach out on display for the camera and his swollen face, streaked with tears, front and center. He’d just seen his child for the first time, and he knew it was going to be the last time. The thing he’d dreaded, was now his only hope and he clung to the idea of having a child, knowing if he let it go, he’d lose himself in the process.

He was already lost, facing a battle he knew knew he could never win solo, and his child was caught up in the middle. A child Tony wasn’t even aware of. And _that_ was his biggest regret. 

~~~ 

The picture had rose on Shields radar the second it was released on the black market webpage, an intergalactic sight that has hundreds of billions viewing it at the exact second Tony was called into the room by Fury. 

At first, nobody caught sight of the swell of his stomach or the title the picture had been given. They were all too focused on Peter’s face, puffy and red; eyes swollen shut with blood a stark contrast on the pale poof of his cheek. Tony was a man who was driven but logical, a man who was powerful and would wreak havoc on earth just for the hell of it, but he swore he would tear the galaxy apart in search for the bastards that took Peter and not regret a _single_ thing.

He tried to remain emotionless, neutral to the photo staring him in the face, reminding him how incompetent he was as his heart thudded, fast and sharp, in his chest. But then his eyes flickered to the words written at the top, and his heart stilled. Stopping altogether, stuttering in his chest as he felt it spaz and flip before it lunged up into his throat. 

“He’s-“ he began, voice forced and scratchy, closed off and thick. His eyes found Fury’s a second later, and the man nodded, eyes silently flickering to the photo once more and that’s when Tony saw it. The swell of his stomach, all daunting and telling in its round glory as it scream a truth Tony had been oblivious to. 

_Pregnant Spidey-Boy. Rare._

Peter was _pregnant_. 

~~~

A truth that was quickly to become his reality was held close to his chest as he retreated back to the towers, the other members of the team he’d helped create all unaware and oblivious to the current status of their youngest team member and his heart was heavy; settling in his stomach to slosh away in the empty confinements as it contended with his stomach acid that licked hot and bitter at the back of his throat. 

He’d become emotionally distant. It was his defense mechanism. He never allowed himself to grow too close to people, and if he ever feared their connection extended beyond a general acquaintance, he would leave and let things settle down before he would return months later. Offer overpriced gifts and improved suits for his absence, and nobody ever mentioned it. Ever questions his methods because they knew he cared, in his own twisted, fucked up way. His heart may be damaged; a rubber ball that was tattered and shredded as it thumped off rhythm in his chest- but it was still capable of loving even if it contended with the will power of his mind. The desire to remain safe and hidden; kept locked in the confines of his chest.

The need for the validation of his feelings would be as easily conquered as Jack climbing the beanstalk. You’d eventually reach the top, eventually find the heart he held scream your name with every thump; a dark, secluded chunk was dedicated to you and you alone- but that didn’t mean the climbing wasn’t hard. Through the patches of thorns and the mangled branches obscuring your path, denying you a chance to pass unless you conquered the obstacle and had enough motivation to move past it. Tattered and bloody, with your own heart shredded to pieces and bleeding in your chest, you still broke through that layer of clouds hiding what hid on the other side and some say it isn’t worth it. To be loved by the genius who was so emotionally stunted it was impossible to know if his actions were from the love he carried, or pure jealousy to prove he was all anyone would ever need. 

The danger wasn’t worth it. The unknown factors on if he would ever return, and if he did, if he would be the same. So many things have cracked his path, split the sidewalk, and so many times he had fallen into the depthless void and allowed the darkness to consume him. His weakness was his inability to curb his cravings and sometimes, he craved nothing but silence. Nothing but his own presence, and even then, he often carved a different version of himself.

He’d pushed Pepper away, never allowed her close to his heart and only allowed himself to keep her close as an unhealthy anchor that tethered him back to earth and reminded him _why_ he was fighting. She’d tried to be that for him. To be all he needed, all he could ever crave. But even a woman holding on for the sake of keeping the world’s strongest asset sane, could only hold on for so long. She loved Tony, he knew that, and he loved the woman more than he once thought capable. But it was a familiar love. An old love. Twined with his past and reminding him in the darkness, there had been that one shred of light grounding him to earth. Filling the cracks, dancing with the monsters and soothing them to keep them at bay for moments of lucidity that would haunt Tony in his darkest nights. 

Only, it was him who finally left. Who realized his grip on Pepper’s heart was unfair, how poorly he’d treated her. She asked for too much, and he offered too little. Never managing to leave behind the life she didn’t understand, but was his very reason for living. 

He’d run around in search of a cure for his loneliness, while keeping a woman by his side to curb his insatiable need to be _wanted._ He craved the domesticity, but it didn’t crave him and he wasn’t bred to be a _family_ man. His father has assured him of that- reminded him with every breath he drew, that the air he breathed out was only toxic to those around him. He wasn’t a man who could ever have _more._ A man who could ever be _more._ He’d settled in his life, accepted his role he was meant to play, watched as Morgan grew before his dewy eyes that refused to focus on more than the ground crying beneath her feet as the dust awakened dormant emotions that lay in his heart and echoed with every thump, the last words Peter had spoken to him. 

He loved Morgan. She was _his._ But he couldn’t claim a hold on the little girl that had never been forged. He was a familiar face always filtering through the scenes in her life. Never having enough stability to cling to a moment and enjoy it for it’s worth. He’d never _allowed_ himself to. 

He was a genius who had everything at his fingertips, but nothing.

Until Peter.

Who claimed it was all _worth_ it. The pain. The running around. The betrayal. The loss. Suffering through Tony’s death while also putting back together the insane genius’s body and a whim. The games. It was all worth it if he got Tony and the man had abused that. Taken it for advantage and he’d pushed Peter away in the process. Unknowingly created a splintered board of privacy between them and before he could register what he was doing, comprehend his surroundings, he was screaming until all the air was sucked out of his lungs and his fist was sailing towards the wall.

Built with tougher material, meant to endure more, be more durable, but not unbreakable and Peter’s claims proved correct when he felt a bone in his hand snap and splinter. Making not even a dent in the metal elevator door, the cart swaying in it’s halted movements as he swung precariously several floors up; Friday having enough coherent thoughts to know when Tony needed privacy.

He collapsed to the floor, hand clutched to his chest as the pain bubbled in his chest and it terrified him, the extent of his emotions. Losing Peter before had been painful, nearly unbearable, but then he didn’t know what the boy _tasted_ like, what he looked like as he fell apart beneath him, what his _name_ sounded like falling from parted lips as it was gasped. 

He knew that all know, and more. So much fucking more.

All was being offered to him that he’d once dreamt of, and now he’d allowed the life he claimed needed him, take it from him. And he realized years too late he didn’t need _it._ The suit. The money. The glory. The pride. The adrenaline that came with a fight he was statistically meant to lose, but always walked away with little more than bruises to prove his bold attempt at being a hero.

He needed _Peter._

He needed the life Peter was trying to offer him all those months ago when they laid parallel to each other on the floor of Tony’s bedroom, fingers intertwined and held between their bodies as they breathed in unison and there, playing on the ceiling, dancing in the shadows; were the words brought to life the second they left Peter’s lips in no more than a breath. 

It was the promise of a home, of children, of a life lived not in fear, but peace. The solitude the fantasy offered had been tempting, intoxicating as the words coaxed his heart into a slow, soft patterned rhythm; mirroring the one he felt through the fingers clutched in his own.

And now- now that was _gone._ As much a fantasy as the idea of Tony ever being capable of offering himself fully to Peter. 

He’d lost it all- fucked it all up. And he didn’t know if he could _save_ it- them- _him-_ before it was too late. 

The elevators opened without his knowledge, and he wasn’t even aware of the people hovering around him until he felt multiple arms wrapping around him. Holding him together. Acting as an adhesive to temporarily piece together all his shattered pieces and through blurry eyes, he saw nothing but familiar faces that scream love and compassion.

Their own pain pushed to the back burner, forgotten, if only for a moment. After all, it wasn’t often Tony openly admitted his emotions. And it was an even rarer occurrence when he openly displayed them; became so transparent that his broken heart was a visible dent in his tattered armor he often strutted around with. Baring with pride to show all he survived only now, they saw him for neither his strength nor his weaknesses. 

They saw him as a _man._

The Avengers may be flawed, but as they set huddled in a small elevator with the center of their entire organization, the hero of their cause, the man who made it _all_ possible, curled in a small ball in the center of the group, they were no longer heros. They weren’t the god of thunder, of the infamous black widow. Hawkeye’s bow was left abandoned on his bed and Rhodey’s suit was locked away in one of Tony’s labs. They weren’t the _Avengers the world saw._

They were the broken family who, in their own way, was _perfect._

Or as perfect as they could be in all their broken glory. 

——

“He is pregnant,” Thor confirmed with a loud clap, beaming smile misplaced given the circumstances of their situation but for a moment, it was contagious enough everyone had felt the twitch of their own lips betraying the heaviness of their heart. “From what I gathered during our conversation last month, he is no more than four months along,” 

All eyes turned to Tony, waiting for confirmation the man couldn’t offer and he shrugged all their gazes off with a wave of a hand and a low grumble. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, the admittance hard to give life but it stole the very lungs from his breath.

He had a pounding headache from his mild meltdown in the elevator only minutes prior, his nerves raw and frayed as they set sizzling beneath his skin and threatened to set a blaze to his entire body at even the slightest touch. 

Apparently when Peter claimed him capable of experiencing human emotions, and being indecipherable from them in that area, he hadn’t been lying.

“How could you not know!” Natasha boomed, chest inflating as she eyed Tony from across the table, hands braced on the flat surface for purchase meant to make her look intimidating. “He slept with you every night! He-“

“Enough!” Steve cut her off, eyebrows raised from her slip up and admittance of a relationship they’d speculated but never acknowledged. “This isn’t Tony’s fault. None of us knew, aside from you and Thor and we spend as much time with him as Tony does. Albeit not as intimately, but playing the blame game isn’t going to change anything.” 

Tony smiled at Steve, a tired, poor excuse for a smile. Thankful that even with their differences, he could still count on the man.

“Our little spiderboy didn’t want us to know,” Wanda said, timid from her place leant against the door frame. “I have powers- I very well could have _felt_ his pregnancy, read his mind, but I didn’t- he was hiding himself well, Nat, and if not for your priviness to the situation, you can’t claim and be certain you would have known of his pregnancy.”

“Yeah, because a trained _Russian_ spy couldn’t pick up on all the signs. Weight gain, increased appetite, mood swings, morning sickness. You were all just too ignorant and self absorbed to see what was in front of you,”

“We get it, Nat, you’re better than all of us but can we make this about someone other than you?” Clint chirped up, arms folded across his chest as he eyed the woman. “Rather we were aware of his pregnancy or not, that helps us in no way. We’re wasting our time. Time _peter_ doesn’t have.” 

And just as quickly as it was made about the pregnancy, that fact was dropped and they all jumped head first into a semi-palpable game plan. With the edges needing to be ironed flat, but fool proof for now and with a simple glances shared in department, they parted ways. 

Leaving Tony to sit at the table, twirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. It did nothing for him now, he noted bitterly. Apparently in his programming, Peter saw it necessary to include an increased metabolism- much like his, that denied him the opportunity to get drunk. Didn’t mean the familiar burn wasn’t welcoming. 

He was three glasses in with the familiar burn scratching his throat raw, when the chair next to him was pulled out and a soft Liliac scent ghosted over him. He didn’t need to look up to know _who_ it was. 

“Come to berate me too? Remind me how negligent I am? How big of a pile of shit I am because not only was I completely unaware of a pregnancy not once, but _twice,_ I also managed to lose the kid _again.”_ Tony looked up at her and held up his glass in silent cheers before he threw it back and finished the remaining liquid in one swallow. “If so, you’re late to the party and I’ve heard it all.”

“Are you done?” She asked, slightly amused with a perfectly plucked brow arched. “If this is going to be a pity party, I can come back later.” 

Tony glared. “Spit it out, Pepper. I’m in no mood for games.”

“I can see that,” her lip quirked up with a sad note. 

Leaning forward, arm laid flat across the table, she reached up and smacked Tony upside the head. “ _That_ was for how moronic you can be sometimes. _This,_ ” and she hit him one more time, in the same place, just for good measure, “is for allowing yourself even a second to wallow in self pity when your _boy_ is out there, god knows where, pregnant with _your_ child.” 

Tony spluttered, prepared to deny her accusation as his hand cradled the back of his head, only for him to cut off completely when he saw both her eyebrows raise. 

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not here to listen to your denials. I’ve known for _months_ of your active relationship with Peter, and I’ve known for years your infatuation and ever growing feelings for him. I’m not here to hurt you, or be the jealous ex. I’m here to help you realize how completely stupid you are being right now.” 

The raised eyebrows she got in return prompted her to continue. 

“Peter, however strong he is, is probably out there, somewhere, scared out of his mind with the weight of hundreds of children’s life’s resting on his shoulders. Forget about your own self blame you seem to hold yourself accountable to, and remember that he is yours to fight for. Since his disappearance, I’ve seen you threaten Fury’s life but do nothing more. You’re putting forth no effort and I don’t know _why._ Before, when you’d lost him, you’d went insane, Tony. And now you’re skipping over every single levels of grief and jumping right into acceptance as you attempt to drown your sorrows in alcohol.” 

“It’s my fault he’s there,” he whispered, deflated, “he was working with Fury to give me more time. Time to be an ignorant prick that has done nothing more than waste the past few months of his life doing _nothing._ ”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You’re forgetting just how strong Peter is. Nobody could force him to do anything he didn’t want to.” 

“I’m his weakness though,” Tony said, repeating what Peter has told him months ago and he cringed when he realized how childish it sounded falling from his lips, such an adolescent claim branded with a stamping approval of the cheesiest thing he’d ever said. “He told me Thanos used me because he knew I was the only thing strong enough to break Peter.” 

“That may be so, but you’re forgetting how adamant Peter is. With or without Fury’s cooperation, he would have hunted down the Chitauri solo. Only now we have the needed resources to actually _save_ him. He’s not gone, Tony. He’s not a pile of dust on some alien planet, stranded in the realm of souls. He’s alive, and he’s here, and he’s waiting for you.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” 

“Of what?” 

 **** “Constantly offering pep talks for my relationship. Of saving me and the people I care for, over and over again?” 

As if he wasn’t constantly saving the world, over and _over and over again._

“It came with the job,” she said with a small smile and a shrug, “Besides, If you didn’t have me, who would have had access to the resources offered by your billion dollar corporation, and given you this?”

At this, she produced a tablet from her purse that lit up immediately and she grinned. “Tapping into the satellites, I focused on certain electrical surges that often come with the use of Chitauri weapons and I found a dozen small locations in New York, some nearly cold, but one had the most recent readings.” 

And he questioned his sanity for a second, for _ever_ hurting this woman and refusing to love her in the ways he knew she deserved. 

——

It was the sobbing of children that woke Peter up, stiff and cold with his clammy skin painted in a light pink  tint with a dusting of goosebumps littering his body. He was back to his original room, door or portal or whatever it had been gone, and in its absence was a nothingness that had haunted him the first few seconds after he’d turned to dust. 

Humorous, if he thought long enough on the subject to pay any mind to the emotions the memories generated. Beyond the panic attack levels, he felt an odd stir in his chest but nothing more as he cracked his eyes opened and tried peering through the darkness to make out _anything_ , only to see nothing. Nothing to entertain him, to steer his thoughts away from the darkened corners. 

He couldn’t afford to panic now. 

And that’s when he heard it again, only it wasn’t crying but rather yelled profanities as the person in question was left in darkness, too, and it was closer than he expected. Pressing his ear against the wall next to his bed, where he still laid, he focused for a second longer and heard it again. “Hello?” He asked, soft and cautious, his voice raw and hoarse from mistreatment and his lack of water. He didn’t know how long he’s been here. He just knew it’s extended well beyond a few hours. 

A heartbeat passed in silence, and he was afraid they hadn’t heard him until he caught the sound of shuffling on the other side. “Hello? Is someone there?” The voice was hoarse, low and masculine with a twinge of something feminine twining with each word. 

Hope blossomed in Peter’s chest. Premature, but so be it. “Yes! Hello! My names Peter Parker- I’m-“ 

“Stuck in an Alien prison?” The stranger offered, chuckling dryly despite themselves and Peter’s own lip quirked up. 

 **** “Exactly.” 

“My names Blaine.” 

It turns out, the stranger, Blaine, had been here for quite a long time, If the tallies on the wall were anything to go by. Three weeks, and nobody had come to rescue him. Twenty three days, and not a single soul had emerged with the claiming of being his rescuer and he’d lost hope. Accepted his fate. Accepted he was to be marched into an extraterrestrial spacecraft and sold to an alien planet. 

In his time here, he has watched hundreds of children taken away. Cleaned and groomed to perfection before they were led to a secluded room and never heard from again. He didn’t know why he was being spared, why he has yet to be taken, but he also said he didn’t mind being favorited and/or unusable merchandise if it meant he got a little more time. 

Half way through their conversation, and there was a near silent clicking sound outside of Peter’s room before the same portal opened and through it emerged three different Chitauri. All seemingly cocky when they eyed the deflated Peter Parker, bed ridden with motion sickness added to his ever growing check list. 

He sighed as he was drug to his feet, didn’t attempt to fight it even though he knew at the edge of his wrist were the webs from his bite. He obviously preferred web shooters because they were far more reliable and not nearly as painful when he was running low, but it didn’t mean he lacked the ability to create webs from his own bodily fluids or however they were created. He was the only one aware of it, Tony included. The holes in his wrist weren’t visible to the naked, untrained eye.  

Led down the hallway, he watched as numerous portals all similar to the one entering his own room, littered the walls and he was curious as to how they found this place? Stone walls with no entrances aside from their alien technology.

They were just passing the room next to his when the man he’d been taking to stepped out, eyes wide and prominent with his pale skin a stark contrast to the bright red clothes he wore. Clothes similar to the ones Peter wore, and he wondered if the colors meant anything when he saw the others on their block all had purple clothing. 

Peter smiled at him, small and barely visible, but the young man saw it and returned it. He was similar to Peter in build, if not a bit more lankier with thick rimmed glasses hugging the bridge of his nose. He had blonde hair that was obviously greasy, the strands sticking up in each and every direction and his dark red lips were downturned in a frown with dirt smudges streaking across his cheeks. 

They were led down the poorly lit corridor, across a small expanse of land that would have passed for a lunchroom if the lack of tables and anything resembling human hadn’t been stripped from the walls, leaving it empty with the floor partially torn up. 

Then they were all shoved into the corner of said room, nearly a hundred of them all piling on top of each other, searching for comfort in strangers arms and he watched as a child no older than three stumbled their way towards him and collapsed at his feet. Without waiting for their approval, he moved closer to the pile of crying children, ignored his automatic response and reflexes that were screaming at him to _save_ them, and instead scooped up the little girl in his arms and set cross legged on the floor. 

The girl whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as she clung to him with a desperation that bled through the physical contact. “Hey, baby girl, you’re okay. See? I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he whispered in her ear. 

He was sick to his stomach, looking around at all the terrified faces that surrounded him and his inability to do _anything_ about it infuriated him. He was Spider-Man, the hero meant to protect all these young kids and he was so fucking worthless right now, so powerless with his energy zapped from his body, and he could do nothing more than cry with them. 

“Peter,” a voice hissed, distant but audible above the chiaturis grunts and the whimpering children. 

Cautious, as to not draw attention to himself, Peter lifted his head and his eyes immediately found Blaine’s. Something about the greens of his eyes scream familiarity, demanded he remember where he’s seen them, _who_ they belonged to, but his mind refused to work properly. To tie together the strings being offered to him. 

He nodded in acknowledgement to their words, knowing they wouldn’t be able to hear them from across the room. “I am not who I say I am, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” 

Without hesitation, he nodded. The man might as well have admitted he just committed multiple murders, but something about him was soothing, calming. His presence demanding a calmness to sweep across your skin and Peter gave into the low hum buzzing in the tips of his fingers and sighed. He didn’t know the man, didn’t know of his intentions, of who he was, but he knew he _trusted_ him. As much as one could given the circumstances. 

Peter prided himself on being a good judge of character, and he got no bad vibes from this guy. There was something in his eyes, something that extended beyond a mild recognition. It was comforting, familiar, warm, dancing with an electrical current he swears he’s seen before but couldn’t quite pinpoint _where._

Regardless, he knew he could trust him. 

“Good,” and he just now realized the man was speaking just above a whisper, his glasses gone, “because I will need your help.” 

——

It wasn’t like he could have _called_ it. Who the man was, what he was capable of. He had barely conversed with him. Shared no more of his backstory with the man than the man had with him, and he didn’t know how capable Blaine had been in lying. 

However, the man was apparently a very _good_ liar, because Peter was sat stunned into silence with the hundred or so children gathered around him as they all watched Blaine charge at the Chitauri. 

Peter had scream, trying to warn him of the danger, of how out numbered he was, preparing himself to launch into battle to help him, but he was cut off when a burst of something left the man’s palm and slammed, like a brick wall of blue, into the Chitauris chest and disintegrated then into piles of dust.

_Magic._

Blaine spun and when a burst of light left the gun, he shot out a ball of blue and light exploded in the room when the two power surges met and when the light dissipated, the stars blinked from Peter’s eyes, it was to focus on the silhouette of a man who stood in the dust, rising from the flames barely sparks at his feet, with bodies of Aliens littering the floor. 

Barely any movement, and he’d managed in killing them all. 

Peter was too stunned to talk, too entrapped in the scene before him to realize the moment of deja vu happening before him- _where_ he’d seen this man.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the time to allow you a chance to digest this, young Parker. I have a man who has been waiting years for me,” Blaine said, and his voice was twinged with an accent now, so fucking familiar it was infuriating. 

 **** “Who are you?” _Years? He’d been here only weeks._

“That is a reveal I will save for another time. Come, now. I’ve bought us a few minutes before the next wave comes.” 

The children didn’t need to be told twice, because they were all running towards Blaine, abandoning Peter on the floor, even the little girl he’d been cradling, and he watched as Blaine offered a small smile and a shrug before he began to lead the children down the hallway they’d just came from not ten minutes ago.

He scrambled to his feet and followed after them. “Were you even a prisoner in here?” Peter asked, easily falling into step at the front with Blaine.

The man smiled sympathetically. “Originally, I was. But my part isn’t what you assume.” 

“Then what is your part?” Peter snapped, using far more venom then he’d intended. “You ask for my trust, yet offer nothing in explanation. _Who are you?_

“In order to answer that question, Peter, I must start at the beginning and time is not our friend at the moment.” 

Peter stopped, defiant, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then speak fast, because I refuse to move another step until you _tell_ me who you _are._ ”

Blaine growled, obviously annoyed, and brushed a hand through his hair. “Six years ago, I was killed in a quest to stop a beast. Only I didn’t die. I was sent to a different place, a plane between existing and not. My soul was trapped for several years, and upon escaping a few months ago, I took refuge on the sister planet to earth, a place you humans call Mars. In my attempts on finding my way back home, to my husband and family, I was captured by the Chiutari. To hide my identity and the extent of my pull on the galaxy, I camouflaged myself as this poor morsul and have been tortured for weeks here. They want my knowledge. My _powers._ I was too valuable to kill, and too valuable to sell. The only reason I have _stayed_ was to try and infiltrate their base and see exactly _where_ they were sending children.” The, _until you_ _came along,_ was left unsaid, but heavily implied when the man huffed out a deep breath and let his eyes skirt over Peter’s person.

“You were affected by the Realm of souls?”

“Yes, and no. I was not trapped in there amongst the other billions of souls. However, it was by the same man’s hands that I was killed. Unlike the realm of souls, I was still coherent and able to live between dimensions. I was incapable of communicating with the living souls, and I was alone. It was as if I didn’t exist, while everything I knew countered that claim.” 

Peter blinked for a second, stunned, and allowed himself to disgust the information before he straightened his spine. “Thanos? You were killed by Thanos?” Blaine nodded, reluctant. “All of this doesn’t tell me _who_ you are,” 

“If I tell you, you must not cause a scene or allow it to waver your trust in me. You have to give me your word.” 

“I promise,” Peter rushed to say, only acknowledging the child who took his hand with a simple glance before his eyes found the familiar green ones. 

“I’m-“ he was cut off, however, by the sound of feet pounding against the cement floor and with a wild look in his eyes, unhinged and borderline psychopathic, Blaine pushed his way through hordes of children and turned to face them. “Run. I can hold them off for only a moment.” 

“But-“ and Peter was choking, panicking, “I don’t know where to go.” 

Blaine turned to face them, desperation an evident streak in his large eyes. “There’s a door just down the hallway. It will lead to a ladder that will take you up to a sewer plate. Now go, please. And hurry.” And okay, apparently he truly _was_ scoping out the place.

The children were already running in the direction of their given coordinates, but Peter hesitated. “Please, Peter. I will be fine, and I promise to tell you everything once we’re safe. Just go,” 

He was confident they would survive this, and for whatever reason, Peter believed him.

So he did. He ran, footsteps heavy against the floor as they carried him in the direction of the kids and his stomach was hurting; sharp cramps constricting the muscles with every movement but he pushed past the uncomfortable ripples of pain and sent each child up the narrow, steep ladder.

One by one they left, resurfacing in a small room poorly lit by a single light hanging from the ceiling and he knew it to be an abandoned warehouse. Where, was the question. 

They were halfway through the children when Peter heard the shouting from behind him, followed by the ear splitting sounds of energy meeting energy; power fighting power. Echoing off the walls and reverberating in his body, shooting down his spine to twine with the need to _save_. 

“You!” Peter hissed, pointing towards the oldest kid of the depleting group. “Help the rest of them up, and stay there. I will be right back.” 

What he found waiting for him on the other side, however, was _not_ what he expected. 

 **** “Heard you needed a rescue party,” Clint said, all teeth and cockiness as he flashed Peter a grin, his bow slung over his shoulder and his foot resting on the head of a Chitauri where an arrow had pierced their skull, going straight through the creatures eye socket. 

“Clearly he can handle himself,” Nat cut in, rolling her eyes and Peter’s heart swelled. “Hey, kid,” she said, smiling at him. 

Peter lunged, arms wrapping around her in a moment of weakness and when he felt the urge to sob, he tore himself away and his eyes found Blaine; Wanda’s hand raised with red currants dancing off the tips of her fingers, waiting for the moment she was given permission to use them. 

 **** “He’s a good guy,” Peter said, moving to stand in front of the man who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the woman. “He saved me and those children. Without him, we wouldn’t have escaped.” He shuddered to think of that possibility, of where exactly they were being taken when Blaine had intervened.

 **** Then something caught his ear, the low humming of a repulsor and his heart leaped up in his throat. “Tony?” He squawked, hands immediately flying to protect the bump tenting his shirt. 

Nat smiled sympathetically. “He was working on the west side of the building with Banner and Sam.” Then her eyes flickered to his stomach, tracking his movement as he rubbed over the bump, panic forcing his eyes wide. “He knows.” 

“He knows what?” A low voice called out, calling their attention to the end of the hallway where Thor stood. 

And it was then that Blaine reacted, acting as if he was a caged animal who had been cornered in his confinement and when Peter turned to face him, he saw not the man who had previously stood behind him, but a man who had many alarms blaring in his head. 

In place of his sandy blonde hair, was now inches of jet black hair, brushing the tips of his shoulders. His facial structure was slim now, sharper, with pale, even paler than before, skin stretching tight over sharp cheekbones. Red lips were upturned in an attractive grin, beaming, and his green eyes were absolutely _shining._

Before him stood a haunted man. A man who has seen far too much, far too soon, and in the reflection of his eyes he _finally_ understood it, the call earlier.  It was Thor he’d seen before, that he’d been drawn to. 

He’d told peter their souls had merged. How true that was hadn’t rang in his head until he came face to face with—

“Loki?” Thor said, and that name was said in a glorified voice, so wrecked it was haunting. Pain filled and happiness fueled. 

Peter turned to look at Thor, who stood appearing as a ghost at the end of the hallway. 

“Yes, it is I, Husband,” 

 


End file.
